


take me back to the start

by EchoBleu



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 3x19 divergence, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Again, Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Alec Lightwood, But it's not Malec, But this time with angst, Depression, Disabled Alec Lightwood, Disabled Character, Discord: Malec Server, Discord: The Fandom Playhouse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Gratuitous Worldbuilding, Heavy Angst, Hurt Alec Lightwood, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Magnus erases his memories, Major Character Injury, Or it started that way, Prompt Fill, Random use of angels, Season 1 callbacks, Self-Harm, They will probably get them at the very end, This is all because of Em, This is very angsty folks, chock full of angst, demon venom, gay wedding, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28263588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoBleu/pseuds/EchoBleu
Summary: Over the ten months that follow Alec's deal with Asmodeus, Alec struggles to adapt to a world without Magnus in it, Magnus falls in love all over again and everyone just tries to make it through another day.orAlec is dying from venom poisoning and Magnus doesn't even remember him.
Relationships: Background Underhill/Lorenzo, Background sizzy - Relationship, Helen Blackthorn/Aline Penhallow, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, background clace - Relationship
Comments: 199
Kudos: 448
Collections: Autistic Alec Lightwood, Fluff vs. Angst Battle 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MoonlightBreeze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlightBreeze/gifts).



> So this is a prompt fill that completely blew out on me and became a full-fledged multi-chapter angst-fest. Em prompted me on Tumblr with "You make me want things I can't have" and the one thing I can tell you know is that those words don't actually make it into the fic until 20k in. It's currently 22k and about 3/4 done, and it will have 5-6 chapters (plus maybe an epilogue). 
> 
> It is ANGSTY. Read at your own risk and maybe prepare tissues. But I promise a happy ending.
> 
> This was betaed by the amazing [JeanBoulet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanBoulet/pseuds/JeanBoulet). Huge thanks also to the folks at the [Fandom Playhouse discord server](https://discord.gg/WX3UqTey9d) for all the encouragement and squealing! Especially Em: I love you and this is a slightly early Christmas present!
> 
> It's also my 100th fic posted on AO3!! I'm so happy that it's this one because this calls for celebration (also known as a lot of angst and hurt/comfort).
> 
> [Specific warnings: suicidal thoughts (mentioned), terminal illness/poisoning, internalized ableism]

_He’s in Pandemonium, staring across the room at an apparition with a bow_ _in his hand_ _._

_He’s in his loft and standing over a pentagram, an electric jolt going through his body as he links hands with someone._

_He’s kneeling in his living room, pulling energy from the hand in his, stumbling back against a lean and muscular body, exhausted._

_He’s holding up his glass and toasting with a tall man, whispering words, flirting._

_He’s watching the man train, shirtless, swallowing back his desire and trying to find the words to say how much he wants him._

_He’s standing in a corridor, hurt and heartbroken, the man turning his back on him._

_He’s storming into a wedding, and the man is striding toward him—_

_Wait_ _._

_Back up._

_*_

_Back to the start._

*

There’s something bittersweet about being back at Pandemonium after all this time. They’re not here to chase a demon this time, or to offer a priceless jewel in exchange for a summoning. They were trying to get Clary’s memories back then, too, Alec remembers. He was against that plan from the beginning, but it led him to Magnus.

He thought himself in love with Jace, back then.

It’s a strange and painful turn of events that leads them back here. He’s not in love with Jace anymore. Clary isn’t the only one missing her memories. Izzy isn’t wearing that necklace today, though it’s been around her neck every day since—

Alec stops his recollection right there, before it turns into something else. He struggles inside, leaning heavily on his crutches. The music assaults his ears as soon as he’s past the door and he winces. He stays back as Jace and Izzy lose themselves into the crowd. He shouldn’t even be here. He doesn’t know why he decided to come, beside to punish himself.

He adjusts his grip on the crutches and looks around the large, dimly lit room, his height allowing him to scan the crowd easily. He can still see Jace and Izzy making progress toward the mezzanine on the other side of the room. The raised space is less crowded, reserved by the bouncers as a VIP section. Alec can distinguish the couches where a mix of Downworlders are lounging, Seelies blending in with vampires and werewolves.

And a single warlock.

Magnus looks different. He’s let his hair grow a little, and it’s not styled up but to the side, streaked with green and purple — or maybe that’s just the light playing tricks on Alec’s eyes. His outfit is flamboyant, gold brocade on a deep red velvet, the high collar opened on his chest to reveal multiple necklaces. Alec swallows hard.

Alec wonders, even now, if Magnus toned himself down for him when they were together, or if he simply didn’t feel the need to be noticed by other people as much when he was with Alec.

Jace and Izzy reach the stairs and briefly argue with the bouncer at the bottom. After a minute, Magnus makes a gesture and they’re allowed in. Alec can’t hear them, not over the deafening music. He forces himself to take his eyes off Magnus and slowly, painstakingly makes his way around the room, circumventing the crowd to avoid getting toppled over. His balance isn’t good enough anymore to risk the dance floor, and he’s in enough pain as it is without taking a fall.

Izzy and Jace are arguing with Magnus, clearly agitated, when Alec makes it to the mezzanine. The bouncer lets him through without protesting. Alec doesn’t look up until he’s made it up the stairs, and when he does, he can hear bits of shouted conversation amid the music.

“—for a bunch of Shadowhunters to come to my club—”

“Magnus, I know you’re angry, but this is about—”

“I don’t know why I’d even listen to _Lightwoods_ of all people—”

“Magnus! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

That’s Jace. Alec wants to intervene, but he can’t bring himself to yell from across the room. He’s not sure he can speak at all.

“I know Alec broke your heart, but—” Izzy starts.

Alec braces himself. Magnus’ eyes land on him, but there’s no recognition in them, only a frown. The truth feels like a knife twisting in Alec’s gut. He was still holding on to hope but his mother was right, there’s no denying it now. Then Magnus looks at Jace and Izzy, his gaze turning angry, and back at Alec. There’s a vague curiosity on his face, a slight tilt of his head Alec knows well — but not anymore, because it’s not meant to be this way—

“Who’s Alec?” Magnus asks.

The knife twists again. Alec stumbles, hissing in pain. It feels like an actual, physical wound. His throat knots up, and he turns away from Magnus. He needs to get out of here.

He ignores the stabbing pain in his hip as he stumbles down the stairs, a mess of crutches and barely controlled steps, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t end up face down at the bottom. He runs out the backdoor as fast as he can, into a back alley smelling of piss and forgotten garbage. The contents of his stomach make it to the floor, behind a trash can.

He leans against the wall, barely avoiding stepping into a puddle of his own vomit, and stays there until breathing doesn’t feel like swallowing needles anymore. He doesn’t know how long it’s been when Jace and Izzy find him. He can’t get Magnus’ face out of his head. The way his eyes slid over Alec like he wasn’t even there. _Who’s Alec?_

“Alec,” Jace calls him. He must have felt Alec’s distress through the parabatai bond. Though Alec isn’t sure what Jace feels from him anymore, these days. Between the agony of leaving Magnus and his injury, Alec has tried his best to close his side of the bond.

And the last few days, he’s pretty sure Jace has tried to do the same for him. He looks rough, like he hasn’t slept in days — none of them has. Not since Clary left.

“Did he agree?” he asks.

Izzy scrunches up her face in pain. “Yeah, but—”

“He doesn’t remember us,” Alec states.

“Alec—”

“He erased his memories of me, and by extension, you. I hoped he’d remember Clary, since he knew her from before.”

“He does, that’s why he agreed to help,” Jace says. There’s hope and sorrow mixing on his face, warring with each other like he doesn’t know how to feel either. “But how could he—”

“I broke his heart,” Alec murmurs. “He has the power to erase me, so he did. At least he’s not hurting.”

“You knew?” Izzy asks, shocked.

“Yes. Mom went to see him, before the battle. She figured out what I’d done and she tried to tell him. He treated her like she was still a Circle member and he shut the door in her face. She told me once I woke up.”

“Oh, Alec,” Izzy squeezes his arm. Alec leans into her touch, even though he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want comfort. He wants...he wants the sweet relief of oblivion, too. But he’s not going to get that. Not yet.

And he wouldn’t want to forget Magnus for the world.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jace asks.

Alec looks away, fighting back tears. It’s answer enough. He didn’t want to believe it, not really. He knew. He knew when Magnus didn’t come after the battle of Alicante. Catarina confirmed it, with a gentleness that surprised even Alec.

But everyone is gentle with him these days, like they’re walking on eggs. He’s become fragile. No, broken.

Broken beyond repair.

_*_

Magnus sighs. Having Shadowhunters in his loft makes his skin crawl. At least when he told them to bring a fifth they chose someone decent, Clary’s vampire friend Simon. It might make it harder to do the ritual, but Magnus won’t have to clean up after a _fourth_ thoughtless Shadowhunter.

The two he’s already interacted with — Jace and Isabelle — are brash and annoying, clearly used to the spotlight. Simon seems to be dating Isabelle, though Magnus can hardly see what he sees in her beside her looks. She was downright rude the other day.

The third Shadowhunter is more interesting. He’s tall and handsome, honestly one of the most beautiful men Magnus has ever seen, though he looks sad and drawn. There’s something familiar about him that Magnus can’t place. Unlike his sister, he doesn’t particularly look like either of his parents, so it’s not that. Maybe something from one of the other Lightwoods or Truebloods Magnus has known over the years.

He’s avoiding Magnus’ gaze with a consistency that would be admirable if it wasn’t uncomfortable. Is he really so sure of his superiority that he won’t even look a Downworlder in the eyes?

No, it’s not that. Magnus is almost sure there’s something else, something he _should_ know. Something...something to do with the box in his nightstand, the one with a carved bow and arrows on the lid.

He knows what the box is. He knows it contains memories he chose to remove from his mind, memories that must have been painful – Magnus knows himself. If the memories had been dangerous, he’d have put them somewhere safer. This is something else. This is personal. And something in his subconscious is telling him that these Shadowhunters have something to do with it.

It’s only one more reason not to trust them, as far as Magnus is concerned. If they hurt him badly enough that he had to remove his memories...that means heartbreak. Did they do something to his lover, somehow? Did they kill the one Magnus loved?

The tall Shadowhunter – Alec – talks quietly with his siblings in a corner of the room. He’s walking with difficulty, leaning on metal crutches that make a soft tap on the floor each time he takes a step. Magnus tracks him through the room that way, watching him through the corner of his eyes. Each move looks painful, and there’s something emanating from him, like an unknown sickness. Some sort of battle injury, Magnus guesses. From fighting demons in New York, or from the now infamous Battle of Alicante four months ago? He knows there were many casualties, and there must have been wounded Shadowhunters too.

“Magnus,” Isabelle calls him quietly. Magnus snaps back to the task at hand. They’re not here for a social call.

“What?” he snaps at her.

“I know you don’t remember us, but you know you’re missing memories, right?”

“Yes,” Magnus sighs. “I’m not interested in knowing more about them, especially not from you. I removed them for a reason.”

“Alright, alright,” Isabelle relents. “So, do you think you can help Clary?”

“If the Angels took away her runes and her memories, it’s not going to be the same as simply unlocking a mental block or retrieving memories,” Magnus says. “This won’t be easy, and I’m not sure it can be done.”

He sees the others, except Alec, gather around him to listen. “Once, you helped her get back her memories,” Jace said. “It didn’t work—” he glances at Alec across the room, “—but it could have.”

Magnus’ memory of that day is present, but incomplete, full of holes he knows are due to a memory spell. He doesn’t remember why it didn’t work. He hopes it won’t matter today.

“Those memories were ones I took myself,” he says. “I fed them to a memory demon. Biscuit’s current situation is a tad more complicated.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Isabelle asks.

“You said she has pure angel blood, didn’t you? And so do you,” Magnus points at Jace. “The same blood, in fact.”

“That’s right.”

“We’re going to use that. We’re going to ask for her memories back directly from the source. We’re going to summon an angel.”

“Is it safe?” Alec asks, approaching them, and Magnus realizes that this is the first time he’s spoken aloud in his presence.

“No,” Magnus answers.

“Alec, if there’s even a chance—” Jace pleads. “We have to.”

Alec closes his eyes, looking pained. “Jace—”

“No, Alec. It’s not fair. She didn’t chose this.”

Alec opens his eyes again, his whole body stiffening. Isabelle’s eyes widen as she looks between him and Jace, and even Jace seems to freeze in shock at his own words. The whole room appears to hold its breath, waiting to see Alec snap.

“You’re right,” Alec says after a moment, his shoulders slumping. He looks like he’s holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. Magnus feels a strange instinct to help him, to offer a body to lean on – but he doesn’t move. “She didn’t. We’ll do it.”

He’s clearly the leader of their group, because after that, there’s no protest, no question, not even from Simon. In fact, Simon looks at Alec with a mixture of admiration and sadness in his eyes, and his gaze is hard when he turns back toward Magnus.

Magnus doesn’t know what he’s done to provoke this kind of hostility. From cocky Shadowhunters like Jace and Isabelle, he expects it, though he’s starting to suspect that their carelessness is only a facade. From Simon, with whom he’s only had friendly, even fatherly interactions? Not so much.

Alec seems to be the only one not angry with him in some way. Instead, he steals looks at Magnus when he thinks Magnus is not looking, and his gaze in those moments is _too_ intense, filled with emotions Magnus can’t even begin to comprehend.

Isabelle makes Alec sit down on the couch while Magnus prepares the ingredients needed for the ritual. Alec refuses at first, looking around him like he doesn’t want to touch anything in the loft, but he relents after half an hour, clearly in a lot of pain. He stays with his back ramrod straight, refusing to relax. He touches the leather of the couch almost reverently, and Isabelle just tilts her head sadly.

Magnus is being far too curious about them. He has no reason to be. They’re just Shadowhunters paying for his services, that’s all. He needs to focus on helping Clary.

The ritual involves painting the ceiling as well as the floor, so he concentrates all his magic on the intricate drawings. “Is this some kind of angelic pentagram?” Simon asks curiously.

“Not exactly,” Magnus answers. “There are similar elements, but this is an angelic Seal.” He doesn’t add that it’s the archangel seal he inherited from his father. An entrance to Heaven, right here at his doorstep, even for a Fallen angel. “It still needs five people to activate it.”

“Summoning an angel,” Simon says. “It’s gotta be dangerous, right? I mean, not for them, but for us?” he gestures to Magnus and himself, excluding the Shadowhunters.

“It could be painful, if the angel doesn’t like our demon blood. Are you ready to do that for Clary?”

“I’d go to Hell for her,” Simon says, tilting his head. “And further.”

Magnus nods. “Angels are unpredictable, but this one will be bound by the Seal. He shouldn’t be able to do true harm.”

“So we just ask him to give back Clary’s memories?” Isabelle asks.

“I’m just handling the Seal,” Magnus says. “It will take all my energy. Jace will ask the question. I suggest you think about what you want to ask.”

Jace nods from where he’s standing in parade rest by Alec. “I already know,” he says.

“Then gather up,” Magnus says. “I’m ready.”

They all stand around the circle he painted on the ground, each going inside one of the smaller circles linked by a network of white lines. Alec leaves his crutches on the floor outside of the Seal area and limps over to his spot with a grunt, standing with his full weight on his good leg.

“Link hands,” Magnus orders.

Isabelle and Jace exchange a look Magnus can’t interpret. They’re on each side of Alec, with Simon beside Isabelle and Magnus completing the circle between him and Jace. He reaches out and clasps his hands with the two men.

The pull on Magnus’ power, as soon as the circle is closed, is immense. If he hadn’t recently received an enormous boost, thanks to his father’s death and Edom’s destruction, he wouldn’t have been able to handle it. He focuses his energy on keeping the Seal stable, between the floor and the ceiling, a column of light with them on the outside.

The form of the angel starts to shimmer inside the light, wings folded back against his back. He doesn’t become fully solid, instead remaining ethereal, almost see-through.

“Who dares to summon an angel?”

His mouth doesn’t move, but the voice rings in all their heads.

Magnus grits his teeth against the pain blooming in his chest, tightening his hold on Simon and Jace’s hands. It was always going to be painful. The angels hate nothing more than demon blood, even – especially – when the blood is from a fallen angel. It hurts like hell, but Magnus has been to hell, and he’s come back. He can do this. Simon is wincing, but not as badly, his own demon blood more diluted.

What Magnus doesn’t expect is for Alec to cry out and crumple, barely holding onto his siblings’ hands. He’s angel-blooded. He shouldn’t be in pain. Or is it just his injury acting up under the pressure of the Seal?

He looks barely conscious, his mouth half-opened in a cry of pain. Magnus swallows against his own throbbing chest and signals to Jace to get a move on.

“Raziel’s soldier, and Ithuriel’s child,” he answers. “I am of angel blood.”

The angel turns toward him. “Jonathan Herondale. Yes, we know of you. What do you want from the Angels?”

“My lover, Clarissa Fairchild. She’s one of your children, too. You took her powers and her memories.”

“She played with powers beyond her understanding,” the angel says. “She was punished.”

“I’m asking the angels for forgiveness,” Jace says. “Forgive her, and she and I will be your soldiers on Earth, for as long as you desire.”

Magnus grimaces and hopes Jace knows what he’s doing. He hasn’t had much dealings with the angels before, but this is a not promise that can be taken lightly.

The pain is getting harder to bear, and Magnus wishes Jace would hurry up. Simon is looking a little frayed around the edges, his face screwed up in pain.

Alec looks like he’s hanging on by a thread.

“It is not in my power to decide,” the angel says. “But the Angels are fair. We do not deal punishment unjustly. Her sentence is not forever.”

“She’ll be forgiven?” Jace asks, his surprise showing through his facade. “She’ll get her memories and her runes back?”

“Eventually.”

“But when?”

The angel opens his mouth, but before he can answer, Alec lets out a cry of pain and his hands slip out of his siblings as he falls to the floor. The circle breaks, and the pillar of light disappears, taking the angel with it. “No!” Jace cries out, but he doesn’t reach for the angel. He reaches for Alec instead.

He falls to his knees beside his brother. “Alec!”

“I’m fine,” Alec grunts, through he’s clearly anything but. He’s curled up on himself, his face white with agony, even now that the angel is gone and the pressure on Magnus’ chest has left. “I’m sorry, Jace.”

“It’s okay, brother,” Jace murmurs. “Why did he react like this?” he asks louder, looking up at Magnus.

Magnus shakes his head. “I don’t know. It should only have done that if he had demon blood.”

Jace and Isabelle share a look, and Simon’s breath hitches. Magnus looks between them, but none of them is forthcoming with whatever knowledge they have that Magnus doesn’t share.

Alec sits up with Jace’s help, his hand going to his right hip as he groans in pain. “Help me up,” he asks his brother. Jace seems ready to protest, but he must see something in Alec’s face, because he gets Alec’s arm around his shoulders instead. Isabelle goes to retrieve the crutches and gives them back to Alec, who takes them with trembling hands.

Magnus’ heart tightens, seeing him in such obvious pain. He doesn’t know why—

Or maybe he does. The signs are all there, and it’s time he stopped pretending not to see them.

These Shadowhunters didn’t hurt his lover or his friends. These Shadowhunters _were_ his friends, somehow. And Alec…

Alec is the one who must have broken his heart. That’s the only explanation for what Magnus feels right now. It’s like body memory, almost, a level of compassion and love that cannot possibly come from the few interactions they’ve had that he remembers.

Magnus steels himself against the part of his brain that wants to get the memory box from his nightstand right now and open it. He removed those memories for a reason. Because living with them must have hurt too much.

He’s not going to go back on that and expose himself to that kind of suffering just because he’s _curious._

“What does it mean for Clary?” Simon asks.

“I don’t know,” Jace says. “He said she’d be forgiven eventually, but—”

“Angels don’t see the passage of time like you do,” Magnus cuts in. “It could be years. Decades.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Isabelle asks. Alec remains quiet, head down, still leaning against Jace.

“Nothing I can think of,” Magnus answers. He stands up straighter. “Which means you’re no longer in need of my services. Please refrain from coming back here unless there’s a true emergency.”

He doesn’t want the reminder that he decided to erase the last — what, three years? — of his life.

Isabelle looks visibly shaken by that, and she swallows. Alec doesn’t look up at all. He turns away like he doesn’t want Magnus to see his face, and Magnus wonders what he’s trying to hide. Jace throws him a murderous look, and Simon shakes his head in sadness.

“We’ll get out of your hair, then,” Isabelle says quietly. “We won’t bother you again.”

 _Good riddance_ , Magnus thinks.

It rings wrong even in his head.

*

“How are you doing?”

Izzy leans against the door frame of Alec’s office. She looks tired, overworked. She’s taken on so much in the last few months.

It’s been two weeks since Alec collapsed at Magnus’. He can still feel the pain burning through his veins, eating away at his body, each day bringing him closer to the edge.

“I’m fine,” Alec says, putting down his pen. He shifts in his seat painfully, his hip seizing. He’s been sitting still for too long.

“I wish you would stop saying that,” Izzy sighs.

“I wish you would stop asking me,” Alec shrugs.

They’ve been beating around the bush, trying to ignore the elephant in the room. It’s too big to tackle during work days. They go through the motions like it all still matters, the Clave, the Downworld Cabinet, the patrols. Alec can see Jace and Izzy struggle with it, but he can’t do anything for them.

Clary’s gone back to art school, all knowledge of the Shadow World erased from her mind. Alec has made sure that she’s safe and settled, and all that’s left is watching Jace tear himself apart as he grieves. The hope that the angel brought them isn’t enough. Not when it’s so vague.

Not when everything else is falling apart, too.

It’s been just over four months since it started, since the day Alec made a deal with Asmodeus. It feels like an eternity ago, and yet also like it was yesterday. Magnus’ desperation as Alec broke up with him is seared in his mind forever, and it accompanies Alec’s every waking thought.

Magnus doesn’t remember.

It’s a comfort, these days. Losing Magnus will remain the hardest thing Alec has ever done, but he’s thankful for it, however much it hurts. Because it means that Magnus has his magic again, that he can be happy.

Because it means that Magnus doesn’t have to live through the aftermath.

It’s been four months, too, since the Battle of Alicante. Magnus missed it all. He wasn’t there when they all thought they were going to die there, trapped by the demon hordes, caught in between two forces of evil. He wasn’t there to hold Alec’s hand when he woke up in the hospital to a broken body and demon venom coursing through his veins.

He wasn’t there, when they figured out that it was a death sentence.

Catarina slowed the spread of the venom, but nothing she or the Silent Brothers tried could get it out of his system.

“You’re hurting,” Izzy says, walking in fully and closing the door behind her. “I can see it. I know you don’t like the painkillers, but you need them.”

Painfree runes have long stopped working on Alec’s abused body. The mundane pills were Catarina’s idea. She was there in the aftermath of the battle, when Magnus wasn’t, she ran triage with the Silent Brothers and saved countless Shadowhunters. She did her best to piece Alec’s shattered hip back together and she was the one who figured out what was wrong with him.

“They’re not much use anymore,” Alec admits. The pills are some of the strongest on the market, but his Nephilim body metabolizes everything faster than a mundane, and they barely take the edge off.

No, it’s better that Magnus isn’t here. That he didn’t have to sit by Alec’s bedside after the battle, praying at every new treatment, every test, that something would change. That he doesn’t have to watch the venom slowly win over Alec’s body, leaving him weak and trembling. That he won’t have to wait with them for the day it will reach his heart, and it will all be over.

 _Maybe a year_ , Catarina told him . _If you stop working and rest most of the time._

Alec has done neither. He can’t. He’ll go out of his mind if he tries to rest anymore than he already does. Work takes his mind off things.

He’s still the Head of the Institute, if only because there is barely enough left of the Clave to hold Alicante together, and appointing new Heads has been the least of their problems.

“There has to be something else we can do,” Izzy says. “To relieve the pain, at least.”

“You know there isn’t,” Alec sighs.

She’s not doing well. None of them are. They’re barely holding themselves together.

They lost their father, the day of the battle. Robert Lightwood didn’t make it out of the destroyed city. They’ve lost Clary and Magnus, and now they’re losing Alec too, as his deterioration accelerates with each passing day.

Their whole family is falling apart.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Izzy says, faking lightness. “We can meet Simon and Maia at the Hunter’s Moon. It will be nice.”

Alec wants to say yes, to give her that, a moment of normalcy amid the chaos. But he’s exhausted and in pain, the ache in his hip never letting up. He’s tired of people watching what they say around him. Looking at him like he’s going to disappear any minute.

He shakes his head. “I think I’ll just go to bed early tonight. I could use the rest.”

Izzy nods wordlessly, disappointed but understanding. “I love you, big brother,” she says.

She says it a lot, these days.

“I love you too,” Alec replies, like every other time. There’s nothing else to say. No _it’s gonna be okay, Izzy_ because it’s not, and they both know it.

Someone knock on the door. “Yes?” Alec calls.

Underhill pokes his head in. “Sir, your mother is here.”

“Let her in,” Alec nods. Maryse has been hovering, and he can’t blame her. Looking at Izzy, he can’t deny her the little bit of hope in her eyes. “Let’s make it a family thing,” he says. “Go get Jace and Max.” He can hold off his exhaustion for a few more hours, for them.

Izzy slips out with a smile on her face and Underhill comes back with Maryse in tow.

“Hey, Mom,” Alec smiles weakly, pushing himself up to greet her.

Maryse strides to his side and hugs him tightly. “Alec,” she breathes, love and pain warring in her voice. “How do you feel today?”

“Not great,” Alec murmurs.

He finds himself honest with her, these days, more than he is with his siblings. She’s been his strongest support, despite their once strained relationship, and Alec is too spent to be angry with her as he once was. All of that doesn’t matter, anymore.

Maryse doesn’t break down, at least not in his presence. But Alec is too much like her for his own good, and he can see her pain in every gesture, in the way her hugs last a little longer, the way she tightens her hand on his arm, the way her voice hitches every time she says goodbye after spending time with him.

She hands him his crutches and supports him as he gets situated. Walking is getting harder every day, as the venom lights his nerve endings on fire with every step on his already unstable hip. Maryse just squeezes his shoulder as he hobbles around his desk and hovers until he’s safely sitting on the couch.

“Tell me,” she says quietly, kicking off her shoes and curling up beside him.

They’ve become tactile in a way they never were before. Neither of them likes being touched much, but as it turns out, terminal illness has a way of making you reevaluate your priorities. Alec lets his family hug him as much as they want to now, even on the days it makes his skin crawl.

He sighs, leaning his shoulder against his mother’s. “The new Inquisitor is a homophobic dick. And he wants me removed. He says I can’t do my job anymore.”

“Jia won’t let him do it,” Maryse says.

“I don’t know. He’s not _wrong_.”

Maryse takes his hand in hers. “Alec, even now, you’re a much better Head than I ever was. You’re holding up admirably in the worst of circumstances.”

“I’m tired,” Alec murmurs. “I don’t know how long I can do this.”

She squeezes his hand, and he sees her swallow back her emotions. “If you feel like you should step down to rest, I’m sure Jens can handle the fort for a while. Until Izzy’s ready.”

Not _until you come back_. She’s the only one of all of them who faces the inevitable and doesn’t try to pretend that Alec is going to get better. If nothing else, she’s never been one to shy away from the hard truths.

“Maybe soon,” Alec says. He doesn’t want to, but he’s quickly getting to the point where he won’t be able to work anymore. “I miss him,” he adds, his voice breaking. “I can’t stop.”

Alec can’t get Magnus’ face out of his head. The way Magnus looked at him like he was nothing to him. Alec _is_ nothing to him, now. Magnus doesn’t remember any of their time together.

It hurts more than Alec would have thought possible. He’d thought he’d already reached rock bottom, that nothing could possibly hurt worse than breaking up with Magnus. Than waking up in that hospital bed, having lost everything. But that look haunts him.

Maryse just hugs him without a word.

“Alec!” Max exclaims, rushing into the office with his usual energy. Izzy and Jace are on his heels. He jumps on the couch on Alec’s other side, missing Alec’s quick wince when it jostles his leg.

Max is old enough to understand what’s happening, and not quite old enough to know what to do with his emotions. He alternates between acting like everything is fine and randomly bursting into tears, with no in-between. Today seems to be the former, because he starts rambling about his training without a care in the world.

Alec looks up at Jace and they share an entire conversation in an eyebrow raise. Alec keeps his side of the parabatai bond firmly closed, but he knows that his pain leaks through anyway. He can feel Jace’s despair, the way he’s barely hanging on by a thread.

 _They say the worst pain a Shadowhunter can endure is the loss of his parabatai_. Alec remembers the words. It’s one of the things they learn, in the initial parabatai testing. They’re asked if it’s worth it, risking that.

When they gave a resounding _yes_ , their fourteen-year-old brains had no space to comprehend the pain of today.

Jace and Izzy watch Alec like he’s about to disappear, and he knows, he can see, that they can’t yet imagine what will happen _after_.

They don’t talk about it during the day. It’s too heavy, to much to bear for all of them.

At night, Alec finds himself more often than not sandwiched between Jace and Izzy in his bed. They come claiming they have nightmares or can’t sleep, never quite saying that they just want to feel close to someone else, close to Alec. They say the words, quietly, the words that won’t come out during the day. _It was worth it._

And sometimes, _where thou diest, I will die_. On those days, Alec hugs Jace tight as he tries to convince himself that he doesn’t mean it, that he will go on.

“—and Kara keeps saying I need to work on my defense, but she’s not a teacher!” Max is saying when Alec tunes back into his surroundings. He’s absently drumming his fingers on his good leg, his other hand still in Maryse’s.

“You should listen to her, Max,” Izzy says. “She’s one of the best fighters of her generation. She’s a fairly new transfer,” she explains to Maryse.

“She’s not even a grown-up!” Max protests. “Besides, Aline said she needs to stop overthinking every fight. So she’s not _that_ good.”

“I don’t think you were supposed to hear that,” Alec says, fairly sure that Aline was not referring Kara’s training but rather the frequent phone calls with her deeply transphobic father that send her crying to either of their offices. “You should spend more time training and less time eavesdropping.”

Max pouts and they all laugh, the lightness of the moment freeing them from the stifling sorrow that’s settled between the adults in the room.

Maryse makes the effort to keep the conversation going after that, though she never releases Alec’s hand. It feels good, to have a _normal_ moment with his family. Jace still has shadows in his eyes, but he settles in a chair and even smiles. Izzy’s cheerfulness sounds a bit fake, but she tries. Alec struggles to keep the pain from showing, but he watches them and feels a deep swarm of love for all of them.

After they’re all gone, Alec painfully stumbles back to his desk and pulls up a piece of paper and a pen.

 _Dear Magnus,_ he writes. He pauses, and wishes that even Magnus’ name didn’t make him want to cry. _Every minute I spent with you was worth the pain it causes me today_.

He writes on, until his hand shakes too much to continue. He doesn’t cross out anything, or bother censuring himself. He puts down his pen, finally, and folds the paper carefully.

He unlocks the bottom drawer of his desk with a rune and opens it. He goes to slip the letter he’s just written inside, but he can’t help but stare at the small box there. He doesn’t open it. He knows its contents by heart. He can almost feel it under his finger, the raised edges of the Lightwood crest in smooth silver, the ring he was going to give Magnus. It will go to Izzy, now. There’s a letter for her, underneath the box.

There are other letters, too. One addressed to the next Head of the Institute, instructions on how to keep the Downworld Cabinet going. Alec’s will, freshly updated. Every Shadowhunter is required to draft a will before their first mission in the field, and rewrite it every year. They know better than any other mortal that they can die at any time.

There’s a letter for Jace. One for Maryse. One for Max, who will have to finish growing up without a father and down one brother.

The rest are for Magnus. During the endless days he spent laid up in the hospital, Alec took to writing him letters. In them, he recounted the strongest beats of their relationship, the sweet moments, the hard truths. Everything Alec can remember, since he now has to remember for them both.

He doesn’t think Magnus will ever read them, but he’s not doing this for Magnus. He’s doing this for himself. One last indulgence, since he’s no longer good for anything else.

A drop falls on the top letter, turning the paper darker. Alec jumps and realizes it’s sweat falling down from his hairline. He puts down today’s letter, carefully tucking it in to make a tidy stack, and closes the drawer, his hands trembling a little. His fever is spiking again. In a few hours, he’ll be delirious and out of his mind.

Jace says he cries out for Magnus, in the worst moments. Alec has stopped letting anyone else into his Soundless-rune proofed room. It’s getting worse. It used to happen every few days, but recently, he hardly ever goes a night without losing himself to the venom in his body.

He’s slipping away.

He doesn’t want to die, if only for the pain he knows it will cause his family. But more and more, on days like today, he thinks it might be a relief.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst! And a lot of Magnus in this chapter.
> 
> Huge thanks to [JeanBoulet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanBoulet/pseuds/JeanBoulet) for betaing this.
> 
> [Specific warnings: suicidal thoughts (mentioned), terminal illness/poisoning, internalized ableism]

Magnus  curses when he feels his wards being breached. It’s someone his magic registers as a friend, but it’s still nearly midnight and he was ready for bed. He’s spent fewer nights at Pandemonium recently, discovering that he’s not in the mood for dancing and hooking up with strangers.

He’s trying to breeze through life like he’s always pretended to do, but there’s something missing. He doesn’t know what. It’s like there’s a hole in his life whose shape he can’t quite make out.

Or can he? His dreams have been filled with bows and arrows lately. And Shadowhunters. He glances at the box still on his nightstand, that he can’t seem to stop staring at every night, idly wondering what it contains.

With a wave of his hand, he changes his outfit for something more socially appropriate and unlocks the door of his loft. Which of his friends would have come at this hour, unannounced? It can only be an emergency.

“Magnus! Please, we need your help!”

It’s not a friend at all, it turns out – Magnus will have to figure out later why his wards would let any Shadowhunters through. It’s Jace Herondale, of all people. His voice is tense and scared. Magnus takes a few more steps into the living room to see him, and finds him and Isabelle carrying a barely conscious Alec between them. They’re followed by a fourth person, one that immediately makes Magnus’ blood boil. Maryse Lightwood.

Magnus entertains the thought of just throwing them out, briefly, but he can’t. He’s not the kind of person to refuse to help someone who needs it, even if that someone is a former enemy turned – whatever it is they are, after the Angel summoning the other week. And his eyes are undeniably drawn to Alec’s trembling form, as Jace and Isabelle lay him down on the couch.

He has a vague memory of another man on this couch, years ago – Luke, with Clary hovering and—

It slips away.

“What happened?” he asks.

“He was wounded by a Pervious demon a while ago,” Isabelle answers, nervously pulling at her hair as she turns away from her brother and looks at Magnus.

Magnus’ stomach drops. “There’s no cure for that,” he says. “ Their  venom spreads through the body until it’s destroyed all of the organs.”

“We know, but Catarina said… She slowed it down, he was supposed to have more time. But he’s been like this for three days, and we can’t reach her.”

“Catarina Loss healed him?” Magnus frowns. “Why—”

“She’s Alec’s friend,” Jace says coolly.

Magnus files that away for later, coming closer to Alec to take a good look at him. He doesn’t look good. His face is pale, bordering on gray-toned, and he’s sweating profusely. He’s restless, in the throes of a high fever. “She’s held up at the Spiral Labyrinth,” Magnus says. “I’m not a healer.”

“We didn’t know who else to go to,” Isabelle breathes.

Magnus runs his hand over Alec’s body, letting his magic confirm that the venom has spread through his nervous system, and his organs are failing. Magnus swallows. There’s nothing left to save. It’s too late.

Unless…

He eyes the prominent rune on Alec’s neck, then Jace, with his pure angel blood. The power Magnus recently inherited is the power of a fallen angel. Here on the Earth plane…

There are very few limits to what it could do. Magnus isn’t used to the idea yet, and he’s more than a little scared of what it means, what it would be like in the wrong hands, but it’s a truth he will have to face.

Maybe Alec is already too far gone, but if there’s anything in the world that could help him now, it’s Asmodeus’ power. And if it gives  Magnus a little more time to understand why his throat knots up and his eyes tear up at the thought of Alec dying, then it’s for the best.

“I can’t promise anything, but I will try to help,” he says slowly, stepping back. “He’s very ill, and it’s probably too late already, but maybe I can...give you some more time, at least.”

He doesn’t have to like the Lightwoods for the sliver of hope mixed with despair on their face to be heartbreaking. Isabelle immediately thanks him. Jace takes Alec’s hand in his own like it’s a lifeline. They’re not ready to let their brother go.

And Maryse… She looks vulnerable, more than Magnus has ever seen her before. This isn’t the high-and-mighty Shadowhunter who once stood opposite him on a battlefield. Her neck is strangely bare of runes, and she looks small, defeated.

But she’s still Maryse Lightwood.

“I don’t want this woman in my apartment,” Magnus points at her.

Maryse straightens up a little. “Magnus, I know we have history, but he’s my son.”

“Mom, it’s okay,” Isabelle gently takes her arm. “You need to go take care of Max. We’ll take care of Alec. It will be okay.”

Maryse hesitates, her pleading look going from  Isabelle to Alec on the couch, and finally to Magnus. Magnus gives her a hard stare back.

“Okay,” she murmurs. She takes a step forward, and Magnus stops her with a raised hand. “Magnus—” she starts.

“That’s Warlock Bane for you,” Magnus growls.

Maryse flinches, despite Isabelle’s hand still on her arm. “Warlock Bane,” she corrects  herself , her voice almost breaking on the last  word . “Please let me say goodbye to my son.”

Magnus hesitates, his skin crawling at letting someone like Maryse Lightwood into his lair, but he relents. He knows too well the pain of loss, and the loss of a child must be… Even he can feel some compassion for her.

She kneels down by Alec’s side and brushes his hair off his sweaty brow. “Alec.”

Alec stirs a little in his delirium, half-opening his eyes. “Mom?”

“I love you,” Maryse murmurs, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

She stands back up, staring down at him with her back to Magnus and her other children for a moment. When she turns around, there are tears running down her face. “I know my pleading won’t mean much to you,” she tells Magnus, her voice raw. “But please save my boy.”

“I will do my best,” Magnus promises. “But I won’t do it for you.”

Maryse nods and flees the room, only stopping to squeeze her children’s hands.  Even with the door closed behind her, there’s no mistaking the sound of her sobs, and Magnus swallows bile.

“No Robert?” he asks.

Jace makes a pained grimace. Isabelle looks away, tears in her eyes, and Magnus can see that he touched a sore point.

“He died five months ago,” Jace says. “In Alicante, at the same time as Alec got hurt.”

M agnus just nods and kneels by Alec, who turns half-lidded eyes to him. “Ma’nus,” he murmurs. There’s a desperate relief in his eyes, and he seeks out Magnus’ hand, Magnus only hesitates minutely before he squeezes Alec’s hand in his.

“Tell me more about what happened,” he says.

“He was poisoned through a deep cut in his side,” Jace says, not letting go of Alec’s other hand. It makes their positions awkward, so Jace moves to the side of the couch, at Alec’s head. “It spread rapidly, but we got him to the hospital just in time. Thankfully Catarina was there and she slowed its progression. She did some kind of ritual to keep it contained, but she said it would keep leaking until—” he chokes on his words, making a helpless gesture with his free hand. From up close, he looks terrible. He has dark circles under his eyes, and a slight sheen to his brow that tells Magnus that he’s probably running a low fever himself.

“He’s been having bouts of fever,” Isabelle takes over, standing behind Jace. “He’s in a lot of pain, but it’s hard to tell if it’s only from the venom, because his hip is bad too.”

“And the fever hasn’t come down?”

“Not in a little over three days. Catarina gave him a year, but I think the angel summoning made it go faster. That’s when he really started to get worse.”

M agnus nods  and slips his hand out of Alec’s . He gathers a magical probe into his hand and runs it over Alec’s body  once more, deeper this time.

“If we leave him like this, I’m not sure he’ll make it through the night,” he murmurs, standing back up. “I don’t know if I can do anything more than contain the venom again, and even if I manage it, there a chance that his organs won’t be able to take the shock,” he warns.

“Do it,” Jace says. “We’ve got nothing to lose.”

“It will be extremely painful for him. And there’s no guarantee that it will help.”

“Please, Magnus,” Isabelle says. “We’ll pay anything you want.”

“It’s not about the money, not when it comes to saving a life,” Magnus shakes his head. “Though I’ll be sure to send my bill. But you need to be certain that this isn’t just prolonging his suffering. That this is what he would want. I don’t think he’s lucid enough to make the decision himself.”

Isabelle nods to Jace, still prostrate over Alec’s trembling body. “Jace is his parabatai,”  she murmurs . “Their souls are connected, and Jace already lost Clary.  I fear i f we lose  Alec , we’ll lose them both.”  She swallows a sob. “ Please just try.”

“Alright,” Magnus nods.

H e kneels by the couch again and takes a moment to center himself. He can’t afford for his father’s magic –  _his_ magic, now – to spin out of control. Magnus has been testing it, step by step, but he knows he’s not ready for such a large expenditure. It could go horribly wrong.

He doesn’t think he could get Jace and Isabelle away if he tried, whatever the risks. He’ll just have to make sure that if he destroys something, it’s only furniture.

He focuses on his magical core for a while, doing what he can to prepare himself. When he opens his eyes, neither Isabelle nor Jace have moved.

“I’m going to need your strength,” Magnus tells Jace on a hunch. It’s not strictly true, but Jace’s connection to Alec could make things smoother, and serve as an anchor. And it will give Jace something to do other than wait and pace. “Isabelle, you better make yourself comfortable. It’s going to take a while.”

Isabelle bends down to stroke Alec’s cheek, her lips moving as if she’s praying. “Hang on, big brother,” she murmurs. “Just a little longer.”

Alec is too far gone to even acknowledge her. He’s shaking violently, his teeth chattering despite the fact that his skin is far too hot to the touch. He lets out low moans of pain every few moments, curling in on himself further.

Jace offers Magnus his hand, palm wide open. Magnus nods at him gravely and takes it, placing his other hand on Alec’s chest. Isabelle steps back, curling up in one of the armchairs to wait.

“Let’s do this,” Magnus murmurs to himself.

He doesn’t draw strength from Jace right away. He starts slow, searching for the edges of Alec, of the spread of the  venom inside him. It’s a magical venom, coursing through his nervous system rather than his blood, and it’s everywhere. For the first few minutes, Magnus can barely find where it ends and where Alec begins.

He pushes it back, slowly. He prods at the magical signature of the demon and pushes until it recoils away from him. Alec’s body arches on the couch, and he cries out, while Jace lets out a groan of pain. Magnus barely lets them recover before he pushes again.

It’s a long process. Alec’s whole body is overrun by the venom, and Magnus is honestly impressed that he’s held on for so long. He should be dead already, by all rights. Magnus wonders if he hung on by pure willpower and if so, why. Was he thinking of Jace, of Isabelle in his fever? Of his mother?

Of someone else?

Magnus feels himself sagging. The process of cleaning up every inch of Alec’s body is exhausting, and his own physical body is feeling the strain. He struggles to keep himself up and leans on Alec’s body, until he feels a strong physical presence anchoring him. Jace.

“Take my strength,” Jace urges.

“Thank you,” Magnus murmurs, drawing some energy from Jace to keep his head up. He opens his eyes briefly. Jace has moved to kneel behind him and support him, though he still has one hand on Alec. He has tears of pain running down his cheeks, but his expression is steely, determined.

Magnus’ magic is far from depleted, the expenditure barely making a dent – once, it would have been the end of his reserves – but his body is still half-human. The magic that courses through him, using him as a vessel, takes a toll.

Magnus leans back  against Jace, allowing himself one deep breath before he goes at it again. But this time, it feels different. Jace’s strength leads him in, connected to Alec in a deeper way than Magnus anticipated. He knows little about the parabatai bond. It’s a soul bond, but it has a physical component, Magnus can feel it.

Of course – the rune. The runes all over Alec’s body. Magnus can use them. He can wield angelic power, so he can use the runes to strengthen Alec’s body as he works.

“Isabelle,” he calls.

Isabelle is kneeling at his side in a fraction of a second. “What can I do?”

“Activate his healing rune. As many times as you can.”

“It will be stronger if Jace does it,” Isabelle says.

Magnus focuses on Jace briefly. The pull on his energy is clearly making him lethargic, and he blinks like he’s struggling to follow their words. “Then  help him,” he tells Isabelle.

He tunes them out as Isabelle puts a stele in Jace’s hand and uncovers Alec’s stomach. He can feel the healing rune – iratze, was it? – working as soon as it’s activated, sending a pulse of magic through Alec’s body. Magnus rides on its wave, going in deeper.

He’s fairly sure it takes hours before  he can actually reach  _Alec._ His soul, the part of him that’s still trying to fight back.

Alec’s angelic core is weak, too weak. It’s barely pulsing. Magnus tightens his hand on Jace’s and follows the parabatai bond straight into Alec’s soul. Unlike any mundane venom, the demon venom has its claws there, too, ripping it bit by bit until there’s nothing left. Magnus isn’t sure that there is still time to save it. And while Alec’s body will die if the venom reaches his heart, a crisis that Magnus has at least averted for now, Alec’s soul is just as necessary for his survival.

Magnus begins the tedious and taxing work of removing the venom. He coils himself tightly around Jace’s part of the soul, that’s still open and untainted. That’s what Alec is protecting so hard, Magnus thinks. His brother. The rest of Alec’s soul is wispy, barely there.

Alec trembles all the way, muttering unintelligibly. His face is scrunched up in pain, and Magnus can feel the tension in his body.

Magnus hacks away at the venom tendrils. The first time his magic fully touches Alec’s soul, the part that’s only him, he’s almost ejected out in surprise. Maybe partly fusing with Jace is what takes him  this far. He sees flashes – memories.

It’s just Alec and Jace, at first. _Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee._ The foundation of their soul bond. Magnus sees them as teenagers, taking the oath to always be there for each other. Then again as adults, Jace murmuring the words over a feverish, ill Alec – is that recent? Magnus glimpses other people, but the memory only lasts a second in his mind. It’s not his to keep.

Magnus frees Alec’s soul from another trail of venom. Isabelle jumps out at him, hugging her brother tight, training with him, sleeping in his bed at night, curled up against him. Alec’s love for her is self-evident, permeating every moment of the memories.

Magnus wants to pull out. These memories aren’t for him to peek at. He’s a skilled mind traveler, and he’s even dabbled in mnemopsionics, but he knows how dangerous this branch of magic is. Who knows where Clary would be now if Magnus had never messed with her mind?

Besides, that’s not what he’s here for. He just needs to focus on the venom.

But Alec’s soul doesn’t let him. Magnus pulls harder at the venom tendrils, with a desperation born out of exhaustion, and finds himself yanked back inside Alec’s mind.

_He’s in Pandemonium, staring across the room at an_ _Alec_ _with a bow_ _in his hand_ _._

_He’s in his loft and standing over a pentagram, an electric jolt going through his body as he links hands with_ _Alec_ _._

_He’s kneeling in his living room, pulling energy from the hand in his, stumbling back against Alec’s lean and muscular body, exhausted._

_He’s holding up his glass and toasting with Alec, whispering words, flirting._

_He’s watching Alec train, shirtless, swallowing back his desire and trying to find the words to say how much he wants him._

_He’s standing in a corridor, hurt and heartbroken, Alec turning his back on him._

_He’s storming into a wedding, and Alec is striding toward him, kissing him—_

No.

Back up.

Just like that, he’s back into his own body. The shockwave sends him backwards against Jace, who only avoids hitting his head on the edge of the coffee table thanks to his Shadowhunter reflexes. Magnus breathes hard under Isabelle’s concerned gaze, as she hands him a glass of water.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m almost there.”

But he can’t go back in there. What were those memories? Memories of him in Alec’s mind, and his love, his deep, untouchable love that’s  _not supposed to be there_ because there are no matching memories in Magnus’ mind. When did this happen?

Magnus’ thoughts stray toward the box on his nightstand. Memories. Memories he’s erased, that are still in other people’s minds. Jace and Isabelle’s familiarity with him, Alec’s—

He erased them for a reason, he reminds himself. But his heart tells a different story. It yearns for Alec so much it hurts.

“Can you save him?” Isabelle asks quietly.

Magnus swallows several times, the water failing to erase the taste of bile. “I’ve almost contained the venom,” he explains. “But that won’t save him. It will give him another  few months , maybe, until he’s back in the same place.”

Isabelle hangs her head, and Magnus’ heart constricts even more. He can’t let Alec die. Not now, not in a year. If it’s in his power to save him…

It might be. No one has ever been cured of Pervious poisoning before, but there’s a first for everything.

“I’m going to try to overwhelm the venom with my magic,” he says. “But it’s going to be dangerous. It could kill us both, and you with us. You should get out, come back when I’m done.”

Isabelle and Jace visibly hesitate. “Are you sure?” Jace asks. He’s still weak,  swaying a little where he kneels. Magnus doesn’t feel much better.

“At the very least, Alec wouldn’t want you to risk your life needlessly. Go. I’ll call you as soon as it’s done.” _If it goes well_ , is the unspoken subtext. 

“Alright,” Jace murmurs.

Isabelle supports him as he stands up. They both touch Alec lightly before they turn away and leave.

Magnus observes Alec for a moment. He looks better. He’s still sweaty and feverish, but his skin has lost the gray undertone, and it’s flushed instead. Magnus takes his clammy hand in his own.

So Alec was, as he was starting to suspect, the lover Magnus erased from his memories. The one who broke his heart so badly that Magnus couldn’t stand to remember it.

What is he supposed to do now? Now that he knows? He can pretend that he doesn’t know, but that wouldn’t be fair to either of them. He knows how it started, but not how it ended. What could have been so awful that Magnus chose to erase all trace of him from his life?

Or did he fall in love so deeply that the breakup itself, the simple thought of living without Alec, was unthinkable?

There’s only one thing clear in his mind: he needs to save Alec. He can’t stand the thought of him dying.

Magnus hangs on to that thought as he throws himself into Alec’s core again, ripping apart the contained venom with all his power. He breezes past his former limits, where he would once have collapsed from magical depletion, and keeps going, deeper and deeper. The venom is not sentient, but it resists all the same, deeply entrenched into Alec’s body and core. It’s woven in with his angelic magic, where no demon energy should ever reach.  It won’t just leave. It can’t.

Magnus gathers his magic into his fingertips, now resting on each side of Alec’s neck, and  _pushes_ . It’s the strongest magic he’s ever yielded, the full force of his father’s fallen ang el magic.  It sweeps into Alec, and for a moment, Magnus is afraid that it will overwhelm not just the venomous energy but also Alec’s core. But it doesn’t. Instead, it coils around Alec like a cat, filling the wounds left behind by the  venom. 

A lec’s mouth opens in a silent scream, and he seizes, his body arching and his head hitting the arm rest of the couch repeatedly. But the venom has finally released its hold.

M agnus collapses against Alec, spent.  He uses the last of his energy to check that Alec is breathing properly and to text Isabelle to come back, then he lets himself slide down to the floor.

H is work is done.

*

Magnus comes to  with a pillow under his head and a blanket over his shoulders. He’s still lying between the coffee table and the couch, the rug barely providing a buffer between his body and the hard wood floor, but someone’s been here to take care of him.

“We didn’t know if we should move you,” comes a voice.

Magnus hoists himself up onto his elbow, with some effort. Isabelle is sitting in one of the armchairs on the other side of the coffee table, looking at him curiously.

“How long has it been?” he asks. He sits up fully, finding himself face to face with Alec, who is still sleeping – unconscious? – on the couch.

“About two hours since you texted me,” Isabelle answers. “We tried to wake you up, but you wouldn’t move. Alec seemed better, so we decided to wait.”

Magnus doesn’t try to check on Alec magically – he probably couldn’t light a fire right now if he wanted to. “The venom is all gone,” he says. “He’s probably going to need a lot of rest for a while as his body recovers, but he’ll live.”

Isabelle gapes at him. Her face morphs into a slow smile as she processes it. “Magnus, that’s incredible! You did it! Jace! Alec is going to be okay!”

She plops down from her armchair and crawls around the table to hug Magnus, who is too stunned to stop her. “Thank you,” she whispers in his ear. “Thank you so much.”

“You fixed him?” Jace asks, coming from the kitchen. He has a tea pot in one hand and a bunch of mugs in the other.

Magnus nods in confirmation. Jace calmly puts down what he has in his hands on the coffee table before he lets himself drop onto  an armchair, staring at Alec, almost in shock.

“Thank the Angel,” he murmurs, tears welling up in his eyes in relief.

“In this case, thank the demon,” Magnus says as Isabelle helps him up and into the other armchair. She sits down on the corner of the table.

“You used Asmodeus’ power, didn’t you?” Isabelle asks. “Your father.”

Magnus starts. “How do you know he’s my father?” He doesn’t tell that to just anyone. In fact, the only people who know have been his friends for a long time. How does a Shadowhunter—

“You told me yourself, Magnus,” Isabelle sighs. “A few months after you told Alec.”

Magnus closes his eyes. If she’s telling the truth, then whatever memories are in the box are worse than he thought.

Or maybe they’re exactly what he thinks they are, and he just doesn’t want to admit it to himself. The heartbreak would have had to be agony for him to decide to erase his memories. Camille-level of agony. No, worse: he never erased Camille from his memories.

And Alec was at the center of it. Was he abusive? Did he hurt Magnus so badly that remembering it was unbearable?

Magnus looks at him, vulnerable in his sleep, his face still lined with pain. It seems impossible. But it happened. It must have.

Magnus shakes the thought out of his head. “Yes, I used my father’s power. I inherited it when he died.”

Jace nods. “We saw it happen,” he says in a low voice. “We didn’t know then that you’d—erased your memories.”

“You saw it?” Magnus frowns. “Tell me what happened in Alicante.”

He knew – he felt – that a major magical event happened in Alicante that day, that coincided with his father’s death, but no one has been able to tell him what, exactly. Idris is closed to Downworlder, and even the Spiral Labyrinth researchers aren’t good enough to see through its wards.

“Jonathan – that’s Valentine’s son – opened a rift into Edom, just over Alicante,” Isabelle starts. “The sheer number of demons overrode the demon towers quickly and we couldn’t do anything. There were too many to fight off. Then Lilith came through.”

“Lilith,” Magnus murmurs to himself.

“We thought it was over,” Isabelle says. “We saw Dad go down trying to protect Max. Our little brother,” she explains at Magnus’ confusion, with another of her sad looks. “He’s okay, he got to us eventually, but Dad—” she makes an aborted gesture, swallowing. “Lilith was ready to destroy everything, but she was stopped.”

“By Asmodeus,” Magnus breathes, the pieces of the puzzle coming together in his head. “They’ve been rivals for forever. He was already on this plane... Of course he would see it as an occasion to finally get rid of her.”

“Yes,” Isabelle confirms. “They fought over Alicante for a while. It was...terrifying. We were just running for cover as they destroyed building after building, and it was still swarming with lesser demons. Alec must have gotten bitten at some point, but we didn’t realize it.”

“How did it end?” Magnus asks.

“They obliterated each other,” Isabelle says. “When their powers met on this plane, it didn’t just kill them and send them back to Edom, it made them stop existing entirely. And since your father was King of Edom and it was tied to him somehow, it imploded in the process. The blast took out a whole chunk of Alicante and killed everything in its path.”

“How did you make it out?”

“Clary,” Isabelle says. “She has—she had a special ability thanks to her angel blood, she could create new runes. She made up a shield rune so powerful that it protected all of us. But Alec was weakening and he was a bit too slow to get to cover. He wasn’t entirely behind the shield and his leg was shattered. It’s more than what iratzes and Catarina’s magic could heal.”

M agnus nods. “I saw he was struggling to walk.  That requires delicate healing rather than brute force magical strength, so I’m afraid I can’t help with that. If Catarina couldn’t do anything, I won’t be of any use.”

“You did so much already,” Isabelle shakes her head. “You saved his life. We thought—” her voice breaks.

Magnus reaches out to squeeze her arm. “The last few months must have been hell for all of you,” he says sympathetically.

“You have no idea,” Jace mutters. There’s more than a little resentment in his voice, but Magnus chooses to ignore it.

“Ma’nus?”

Magnus starts and looks over at Alec, who is stirring, weakly searching around with his hand. His breathing has picked up, and he’s frowning in pain. Isabelle, who is the closest, gives Magnus a look and catches Alec’s hand in her own. “Alec, it’s Izzy. Open your eyes for me.”

Alec seems to struggle for a moment, then his eyes open a fraction. He looks around the room blearily, settling first on Isabelle, then on Jace, and finally on Magnus. “Ma’nus,” he repeats, the word slurred but unmistakable.

Magnus makes an aborted move to stand up, but Jace stops him with a glare. “Don’t give him hope he doesn’t need,” he says through his teeth. Magnus swallows and relents with a gesture.

Isabelle looks torn, and she bites her lip as she turns back to Alec. “We’re all here,” she says. “Magnus healed you. Now I need you to wake up properly so we can celebrate.”

Alec chuckles, though he’s obviously confused. “’kay,” he murmurs. He closes his eyes again and his breathing evens out, though the lines of pain remain on his face.

“The pain will fade with time,” Magnus says, trying to reassure the Shadowhunters. “At least the one from the venom,” he adds, remembering Alec’s other injuries.

“We’ll get back to the Institute as soon as he’s awake enough to move,” Jace says. “We’re truly grateful, Magnus, but we won’t take any more of your time.”

Magnus shakes his head. “I’m not throwing you out.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t think staying here is good for Alec. We only brought him here because we were out of options.”

“And I’m glad you did,” Magnus says.

“But we can’t stay. He’s...vulnerable, right now.”

“You think I’d take advantage of him?”

Isabelle winces. Jace sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “No offense, Magnus, but you made your choice. Maybe it was to protect yourself, but we need to do our job and protect Alec. And right now that means keeping him away from here. From you.”

Magnus stands up  forcefully , overwhelmed by the need to  _go_ . To be alone with his thoughts long enough to figure this out. He hasn’t processed the things he saw in Alec’s mind, or the feelings that keep arising in him every time he looks at Alec. He doesn’t know what to do with the near-hostile guardedness in Jace’s posture, the sorrow in Isabelle’s eyes. He doesn’t know what he did – or didn’t do – to deserve them, only that they know more than him about his own life, and his entire being is screaming that it’s  _not safe_ . 

He flees to the kitchen, where he spends several minutes riding out a near panic attack.

What is he going to do now? Now that he knows something of the memories he’s missing, something more than whatever his mind could conjure to fill the holes and the little Catarina deigned to tell him, how can he go back to normal? He was doing just fine, before these damn Shadowhunters barged into life!

No, that’s not true. Magnus may be an expert at deceiving other people, but he doesn’t lie to himself. Or at least he didn’t use to – he feels like he’s been doing  it a lot, recently. He’s not doing well.  He’s going through the motions, but nothing in his life feels complete, feels  _right_ . He knows what depression looks like.

Can he pretend that he doesn’t crave whatever memories are in that box? The brain isn’t made t o suddenly lose a part of itself like this. The neural pathways that have ruled Magnus’ emotions for however many years he erased a re still here, and he doesn’t know how to fulfill them anymore. He’s physically and mentally craving something that isn’t there.

Maybe that’s why the glimpses he got from Alec’s mind have left him shaking and  _yearning_ .

Yes. It’s all a physical reaction from his brain. It’s an addiction. He just needs to treat it like any other addiction:  wean himself off. Stay away.

That means staying away from Alec. At least he can agree with Jace on that. However much it will hurt, Magnus needs to remove himself from this situation.

When he walks back into the living room, hiding his trembling hands behind his back, Alec is awake and mostly alert. He’s sat up partially on the couch, propped up on the arm rest, and Isabelle is quietly talking to him. The tea has finally been served, and the three siblings are each holding a steaming mug, a fourth one awaiting Magnus on the table.

“Magnus,” Alec says when Magnus gingerly sits back down in his armchair. His voice is stronger than before, and his tone is no longer hopeful and confused, but pained. “Thank you, for saving my life. We owe you a debt beyond what we could pay you in money.”

Magnus takes his mug in his hand, trying to draw comfort from the warmth. “You don’t,” he says. “I was glad to help. And…I don’t know exactly what we...what happened between us that I’m missing, but it would be better for everyone not to keep score, wouldn’t it?”

Isabelle chokes on her tea. Alec just looks infinitely sad. “Okay,” he murmurs. “ Whatever you want, Magnus.”

“Drink your tea,” Magnus says, feeling guilty for no reason he can understand. “Then I’ll make you a portal to your Institute.”

Alec nods. “Thank you.”

Playfully, Magnus leans over the coffee table to clink his mug with Alec. Alec meets his eyes  and swallows . “To us,” he murmurs.

Magnus tilts his head, the words echoing strangely in his mind. “To us,” he repeats.

Alec looks away, letting out a small wounded sound. Magnus retreats, trying to give him space. He doesn’t know what he did wrong, but it obviously has to do with the memories he’s missing. Besides, he promised himself to detach himself, and he’s already getting too close again.

They sip their tea in silence, until Alec gives some kind of invisible signal and Jace hoists him to his feet. Magnus doesn’t say a word, a knot in his throat, as he throws open a portal and stands aside to let them through.

He already feels bereft, before the portal is even closed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for more angst?
> 
> Alec is now healed, but Magnus still doesn't remember him...
> 
> This was betaed by [JeanBoulet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanBoulet/pseuds/JeanBoulet) who did an amazing job as usual 💙
> 
> Chapter warnings for description of depression and canon levels of self-harm.

Alec lowers his center of gravity, wincing when it pulls on his hip, and turns to face the petite form of Helen Blackthorn.  She looks back at h im steadily, taping the wrapper around her wrist in place.

She was transferred with him from the overflowing Alicante hospital to the New York infirmary after the battle, along with many other wounded Shadowhunters — Catarina probably save d hundreds of people  single-handedly  that week.  Helen stayed in New York to recover and they became good friends, helped along by Aline who, as Alec discovered, followed where ver Helen went. She’d managed to get her mother to assign her as permanent Clave liaison to the New York Institute.

“Ready?” Alec asks.

Helen just nods and slips into a fighting stance. They’ve been training together as she learns to adapt to the loss of her lower left leg. Now eight months in, she’s already back at the level of most fifteen-year-old Shadowhunters, thanks to Izzy’s creative rune work on her prosthesis and her own stubbornness. She’ll be ready for the field soon. Alec sometimes feels pangs of jealousy as he struggles to keep up, knowing that his shattered hip will never let him get back to where he was before.

“I’m slowing you down,” he says as he picks himself up from where she just threw him on the floor. “I should assign you to train with someone else. Maybe Izzy? She’ll understand the readaptation process.”

H elen offers him a hand to stand back up. “You’re not slowing me down,”  she says, shaking her head . “Sure, maybe I could keep pace with Izzy, but I think you underestimate the value of what we’re learning together. Being aware at all time s of what the other is feeling, what our bodies are telling us. It’s like...parabatai training, but without the rune. I don’t want to stop training with you.”

Alec blinks in surprise. “I hadn’t really thought about it that way,” he says.

“I don’t have a parabatai,” Helen says. “I dreamed about it as a kid, but I figured out pretty quickly that no one would want to be bound to a half-Seelie. But I wanted to know someone so well that I could tell how they were doing at all time and be known in return.”

“It’s not exactly like that,” Alec says, rubbing at his parabatai rune. He hasn’t opened the bond in months, and yet he knows that Jace still feels the pain that leaks through. There’s so much pain, now, for both of them.

It’s a strange kind of irony, that they would both lose their lovers to amnesia, only weeks apart. Clary still remembers nothing, going about her mundane life, and Alec knows that Jace spends too much time watching over her. Alec avoids Magnus, now. It’s not hard, since Lorenzo Rey is still the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and Magnus hasn’t tried to contact him since he healed him.

C lary was forced to leave their world, and Jace hangs onto the hope the angel they summoned gave him, that she will be forgiven eventually.

Magnus made his own choice. Or rather, both Magnus and Alec made choices that led them her e –  separated and alone .  There’s no  going back.

“Being parabatai… We feel each other, but that doesn’t mean we _know_ each other”, Alec says. “Jace didn’t know I was gay for the longest time. The bound was made for battle, to make parabatai the best warriors.”

Helen nods. “I’ll never have a parabatai, but I like training with you. I don’t want to stop.”

Alec opens his arms in surrender. “Fine, okay, I like training with you too. I’m getting a feel for your style, finally. And you’re starting to really take advantage of the way your body moves.”

“Seelie flexibility,” Helen winks. “You should try sparring with a full Seelie.”

“Yeah, well, right now I need a break,” Alec says, limping back to the bench at the front of the training room. “How are things with Aline?”

“She’s freaking out,” Helen laughs. “The wedding’s in two months and we’ve barely started planning. I don’t care, I’d elope to Vegas with her, but she wants it to be a symbol.”

“The first official Nephilim gay marriage,” Alec mutters. He swallows, looking down at his hands.

H e had all these dreams, once. He wanted to marry Magnus in front of the whole Clave, show the world that relationships like theirs could work. It would have been beautiful. The first gay, inter-species marriage recognized by the Clave.

Now he’ll have to leave those firsts to others. Helen and Aline. Izzy and Simon. Hell, at this pace, even Underhill and Lorenzo Rey. Alec will get to watch them and see through them everything he gave up.

Alec’s dreams went up in smoke the day he made that deal.

Helen lays a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Alec.”

Alec shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize that things are working out for you.”

“No, but I know how you miss Magnus.”

“I was going to propose to him, you know?” Alec sighs. “I had all these dreams about our wedding. And then I broke up with him the next day.”

They’ve talked about it, a lot. When Alec was in the hospital and his siblings had to handle the Institute, Helen was there with him. They have things in common that Jace and Izzy will always struggle to understand.

“You tried to help him,” Helen says.

“I broke his heart so badly that he couldn’t stand to remember our time together,” Alec murmurs. He nervously runs a hand through his sweaty hair.

Even now, there’s a knot in his throat so large that he can barely breathe. He hasn’t had a chance to heal. For five months, his whole life was reduced to the  venom slowly overtaking his body, to the knowledge that he would not see the end of the year.

When he was dying, it was easier, in a way. He could tell himself that it  would be better for Magnus not to remember. He could tell himself that  his own suffering would soon be over, anyway.

Now he has to learn how to live without Magnus.

“Alec,” Helen says slowly, after a long pause during which she supports him silently, a hand on his arm. “I would understand if it’s too hard for you, but I want to ask you to be my suggenes.”

Alec chokes on his breath and coughs.  “ Me?”

“Yes. You’ve been...you’ve been my best friend, these last few months. I don’t know how I could have made it through all this without you. And...it seems like a good way to show that we’re both still standing. Together.”

A lec swallows and opens his arms to hug her. “Of course I’ll do it,” he says in her ear. “ Thank you.”

“No, thank _you_ ,” Helen says, hugging him tightly.

J ust as they pull apart, all hell breaks loose.  They hear a commotion coming from the outside, at the back entrance just below the training room, people shouting like there’s a fight going on. Helen jumps to her feet and Alec follows as quickly as he can, grabbing his cane. He takes his bow and quiver from the weapons rack as he goes.

Two Shadowhunters are fighting by the elevator against three people clad in all black, including ski masks, wielding swords. Seraph blades. The intruders are also Shadowhunters. By the time Alec makes it there, Helen has joined the fray, making the match more even.

Alec lets his cane clatter to the floor and nocks an arrow. The closest intruder, the one now fighting Helen, is an easy target, and Alec shoots him in the shoulder, trying to incapacitate rather than kill him. The arrow flies a bit to the side and almost misses, but it gives Helen the time she needs to bring her opponent to the floor.

Underhill is already sitting on his own opponent, roughly pulling his arms behind his back. Alec concentrates on the third man, who is fighting an unarmed Jens. Jens is Alec’s second-in-command who handles the administrative life of the Institute, and he’s an older Shadowhunter who hasn’t been in the field in years. Against a well-trained opponent armed with a sword, he doesn’t stand a chance.

Alec’s shot flies wide. Jens’ opponent throws him to the floor and turns to Alec,  rushing toward him blade first. Alec parries with his bow, but he’s quickly forced to let go of his bow and duck another blow. The blade glances off his shoulder, slicing through his shirt and his skin. Alec hisses and swipes at his opponent’s feet,  making them both fall to the floor.

A lec cries out in pain as his hip gives out. His vision black around the edges, he struggles to get out from under the other Shadowhunter, who isn’t moving.

“Alec!” Helen calls from somewhere above him. Alec feels the dead weight of his opponent being lifted, and he scoots back hurriedly. Helen’s blade is protruding from the man’s back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alec says, though he doesn’t try to stand up. He tries to stop the flow of blood from his shoulder with his hand. “Thank you.”

Helen nods and digs her blade out of the body.

“Alec!” It’s Jace this time, who must have felt the pain. Alec can block the constant hum of pain from the bond, but not sudden bursts – that’s what the bond is for, after all, having each other’s back. Jace kneels in front of him.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Alec repeats. “Remove their masks,” he tells Helen. “We need to find out who they are. And how the hell they got in.”

Jace already has his stele out, and he hitches up Alec’s shirt to draw an iratze. It stems the flow of blood, but the wound is too deep to heal completely. That’s fine. Alec can deal with it.

(Magnus would have healed it with a swipe of his hand.)

“Let’s get you to the infirmary,” Jace says. 

He guides Alec’s arm around his shoulders and hauls him up.  Alec bites hard on his tongue as his hip seizes violently, and he hops on his good leg for a couple of steps. Jace gives him time to get his bearing. They’re good at this, by now. They’ve done this too many times.

A lec gives out orders all the way to the infirmary, even as he struggles to walk, and only reluctantly lets Izzy take over once she gets to the scene, after she’s fussed over him for a good five minutes. He lets one of the medics bandage his shoulder, as it doesn’t even need stitches after two iratzes.

O nce they leave him there, sitting on one of the beds as he waits for someone to bring him his cane, he groans in frustration and runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it.

“Alec, what’s wrong?” Jace asks. Damn. Alec thought he’d left. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Alec shakes his head. His injuries are minor, something he’d usually shake off and go on like nothing happened. But unknown Shadowhunters somehow got into his Institute and attacked his people. “I missed,” he says.

“What?”

“I shot at him, and I missed. And my first shot was way off the mark. I’m not good for anything anymore.”

“You’ve missed hundreds of times,” Jace says. “You’re the one who keeps telling me that. In the middle of the battle, more arrows miss than reach their target. Things move too fast.”

“He wasn’t moving fast,” Alec protests. “I had a decent shot. But my balance was wrong. I shouldn’t have missed.”

Jace sighs. “You’re not back to a hundred percent yet. That’s okay.”

“I’m never going to be, Jace!” Alec snaps. “This,” he points down to his hip, “isn’t going to heal anymore than it already has. I’ll never go back to the field. I’m _useless_ as a Shadowhunter.”

He’s useless, period. He hasn’t had his head in the game in month. Since Alicante. Since Magnus. He’s lucky that nothing major happened to the Institute since Jonathan’s death because he’d probably have messed up everything.

“So you’ll focus on the political stuff. You’re good at that. Practically no other Head does fieldwork anyway, especially in an Institute as large as this one.”

Alec shakes his head. The _political stuff_ , as Jace puts it, has largely consisted in arguing with the new Inquisitor – an old-school homophobic asshole named Goldstream – and desperately missing Magnus at every Downworld Cabinet meeting, unable to focus to the point that the Lorenzo Rey has been threatening to stop coming altogether. 

“I can’t, Jace,” he says, hating the unsteadiness of his voice. “I can’t do it. I should step down, let Izzy take over. She’s got the head for it.”

“Alec, you’re the one who _created_ the Downworld Cabinet. You’ve always been the best at this. I know you miss Magnus, I know you’re hurting, but don’t throw away your career.”

“I’m never going to _have_ a career,” Alec sighs. “The whole Shadow World knows me as the Nephilim who fell for a warlock. Most Shadowhunters think I whored myself out and the Downworlders hate me for breaking Magnus’ heart. Not very conducive to good cooperation.”

J ace closes his eyes in dismay. “Alec—”

“Whatever,” Alec waves dismissively as Helen knocks on the door. “Let it go.”

He steps down from the bed. His hip is still  more sore than usual, but it will hold. “Any word on who those Shadowhunters are?”  he asks Helen.

“We’ve identified them,” she says. “They’re separatists. Not Circle members, but part of this fringe of Nephilim who think we should stop dealing with the Downworld altogether. They swear that the dead one was their leader, but they couldn’t have been working alone. The wards shouldn’t have let them through, for one.”

“After the mess with the Forsaken, Dad had Magnus update them to let in only authorized people, rather than all Shadowhunters,” Alec says. “If they weren’t on the list, they shouldn’t have been able to get inside. Either the wards are weakening for some reason, or they had help from a powerful warlock.”

“Someone more powerful than Magnus?” Jace asks. “There aren’t many.”

“Or someone who knows how he works,” Alec points out. He learned a lot about warlock magic, dating Magnus for over two years. He takes a deep breath. “We need to call him.”

Jace tilts his head. “Are you sure?”

It took Jace and Izzy a long time, after Magnus  had  healed Alec, to accept Alec’s decision to stay away. They  still  think they could have convince d Magnus to  take his memories back.

Alec doesn’t even know if it’s possible. Magnus is nothing if not thorough. He might have erased the memories completely, just so he wouldn’t be tempted to take them back. To hurt like that again.

Unbidden, Alec thinks of the stack of letters in his desk. Sheets upon sheets of paper detailing each moment of their relationship, the good and the bad, everything Alec can remember. He hasn’t looked at them since he woke up in Magnus’ loft.

He needs to learn how to live without  Magnus . It will hurt, maybe until the day he dies, but Alec will do it for his family, for this Institute, for whatever good he can still do.

“He’s the only one who will know how the wards went down. And we need him to pull them up again.”

Seeing Magnus, though… Alec is tempted to hide, to let Izzy or Jens handle it and pretend he’s occupied elsewhere. But he can’t do that. He’ll need to learn how to function around Magnus, too, as long as they live in the same city. Even if it feels like a hundred stab wounds to his heart every time Magnus’ eyes cross his.

There’s a terrible kind of comfort in knowing the pain will never end. Like any grief, it will fade with time, until it doesn’t feel like he’s dying every time he thinks about it, but it will never go away fully. Nephilim only love once.

Alec feels a surge of sympathy for Lydia, who stood with him at the altar and would have married him, with her heart in shambles like Alec feels right now. She hugged him tight, when she came to visit while he was in the hospital, and back then Alec didn’t fully comprehend that she understood him like no other.

B ut Magnus isn’t dead. Alec still has his number in his phone, their endless thread of loving text messages now another gaping wound. He doesn’t pull out his phone, and instead asks for some pen and paper. He sends Magnus a fire message, formal and distant, and stares after the vanishing flames.

“You gonna be okay?” Jace asks.

Alec nods. Helen squeezes his arm and hands him his cane.  His injured arm is thankfully not his cane arm, and his hip seems to be holding up. He hobbles out of the infirmary and down to his office to start dealing with this mess.

*

M agnus doesn’t reply for several hours. Alec figures that he must be with a client, or maybe the Institute has simply dropped to the very bottom of his priorities and he won’t bother coming until tomorrow. But in the early evening, he gets a fire message back.  _ I’m outside. _

He painfully drags himself over to the Institute’s entrance. His hip has seized up again, and even mundane painkillers aren’t doing much to help.

Magnus is waiting at the bottom of the steps, his outfit sharp and almost too shiny – armor. Alec can recognize it easily, the way his make up is a bit too pronounced, the unnatural shine in his hair.  That’s how he dresses when he’s unsure and scared.

A lec hates that he notices  it  all, when all Magnus probably sees about him is the cane. He waves at Magnus to come up the stairs – he doesn’t think he could walk down and back up if he tried – and lets him in. He summarizes the events while they walk into the ops center, keeping it business-only.

“Alexander,” Magnus stops him, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. Alec flinches back, because the name feels like a balm and a match to his heart at the same time. He doesn’t know what he’d do with Magnus actually touching him. “How are you doing?”

Alec frowns and leans away from him. “I’m fine,” he says. Right, Magnus wants to know if his healing stuck. “Free of venom and all recovered.”

Magnus’ eyes travel down to his cane. Alec swallows under his gaze. He keeps wondering how it might have been, to have Magnus beside him as he got used to this new reality – that he’s never going to go back to the field. Never going to walk unaided again, to run, to move without pain. He wonders what Magnus – his Magnus – would have said and done.

He doesn’t want to hear what this Magnus, this version of him that Alec doesn’t know, has to say about it. “ _ This _ has nothing to do with it,” he says curtly, gesturing at his leg. He  turns away, waving at Izzy to come over. “Can you check the wards?”

“Of course,” Magnus says. “I will need some time to get through all the layers, if you want me to be thorough.”

Alec nods. “You can give me your bill along with your report when you’re done. I’ll see that it gets expedited. Thank you for coming so fast. Izzy, will you show him around?”

It’s hard, to remain all business like that, but it’s better than any alternative Alec can come up with. He watches Magnus walk away with Izzy and he can’t help noticing the little details, the way Magnus’ longer hair sits on his head, or his blue-painted nails. He aches to holds these hands in his own.

It’s been eight months, and the pain isn’t quite as fresh as the first day, but it’s not gone, either. He’s not at the point where he can fondly remember Magnus and not ache fiercely for what he has lost. The way he misses Magnus is visceral, and he can barely stand it some days, the way his insides feel twisted. He struggles to get up in the morning. He struggles to eat anything, and he knows he’s lost weight, even since his body is free of the demon venom. He sees himself gaunt in the mirror, and he can’t bring himself to care.

The worst is trying to sleep.  Alec has never been a sound sleeper, but it’s gotten worse. In the year before their breakup, he and Magnus slept together every night, and any bed without him feels cold and empty. His nightmares feature the break up most nights, or the battle  of Alicante, a mix of all the stress and trauma of the last few years – Angel knows  he has enough  bad memories to fill his nights. 

But it’s the good dreams that Alec dreads. The ones where he’s in Magnus’ arms, all warm and soft. Because then he has to wake up to an empty bed and remember what he’s lost all over again.

“Sir?”

Alec starts and almost overbalances, catching himself on the corner of the ops table. “Sir, are you okay?” It’s Underhill, who is frowning in concern.

“I’m fine,” Alec grits through his teeth.

Underhill doesn’t  argue . “This came for you from the Consul’s office,” he says, handing Alec an envelope. “I put the rest of your mail in your inbox, but this seemed important.”

Alec takes the envelope and quickly opens it, while Underhill politely takes a step back. He skims through the letter from Jia Penhallow, then frowns and reads it again, more carefully.

It’s a job offer. An entirely unexpected one.

Alec stares for a moment at the letter, a little stunned, then he slowly folds it back into the envelope. It doesn’t call for an immediate answer, and he has a lot to think about – not to mention urgent issues to fix, namely the intrusion, before he can even start to think about it.

“Put this on my desk, I’ll deal with it later,” he give it back to Underhill, who watches him curiously. “If anyone looks for me, I’ll be in the training room.”

“Sir, are you sure you should?” Underhill dares to ask, hesitant.

Alec just glares at him until he backs off. “I want detailed report on the interrogation of the intruders,” he says instead of answering. “Yesterday.”

He’s rarely this stern with his people, but he’s too tired and frustrated to police his tone. Underhill straightens and nods formally. “Yes, sir.”

A lec turns away and makes his way to  the training room. He changes into sweats, careful of the new bandage on his arm, and takes out his bow and his quiver.

He tries not to think about Magnus being in the building. The attack on the Institute just showed him that he’s been resting on his laurels far too much in the last few months, since Clary killed Jonathan. They haven’t had any major threat, nothing beyond the usual demon nests sprinkled over the city and Downworlder/Mundane issues to settle, and Alec has lapsed in his duty. He hasn’t asked anyone to take care of the wards, or implanted the exercise routine he was working on before Alicante, before he broke up with Magnus. He’s let his personal life interfere with his duty.

Worse, his performance today was abysmal. Alec has had to adjust his expectations of himself a lot since his injury, but missing his shot like that… It shouldn’t have happened. If he can’t fight enough to defend himself, he has no business running an Institute. He’s a liability.

Jia’s letter comes to his mind again. If he’s to accept her offer...

He empties half his quiver into the fifty yard target. His arrows all hit the target, but some of them are nowhere near the bullseye. Alec groans and tries to focus, taking a painful step to align with the second target, at sixty yards.

In a practiced move, he nocks an arrow, ignoring the way his arm stings. He draws the string up to his chin and settles there, paying attention to his posture. His hip isn’t strong enough to take most of his weight anymore, and too stiff – he has to lean on his left leg, throwing his whole body off balance. He’s started to adjust to that, but his posture is still too unstable.

He lets the arrow go. It  hits almost an inch off the bullseye, and Alec sighs in dismay. He empties the rest of his quiver, taking the time with each arrow to adjust his posture, and his aim gets progressively better, but still nowhere near his previous level.

Yet another thing he’ll have to get used to.

The walk up to the target to retrieve his arrows and back is painful and harrowing. Alec leans into the pain almost  in spite of himself, letting the burn in his lungs and the throbbing of his hip feel like punishment. 

After two repeats of this, he’s holding back tears of frustration and pain. His entire body is sore, his shoulders aching from the undue strain and his hip sending shooting pains down his leg and all the way up to his neck. He powers through until his aim is good enough to satisfy him, even temporarily, then stops caring and keeps shooting for the sake of shooting. He gets a second quiver of unruned arrows just so he won’t have to walk all the way to the targets again and shuts out the outside world, narrowing it to just the tip of his arrow and the target.

It’s easy. It feels good, even if he knows he’s abusing his body in a way he’s going to pay for. He can’t bring himself to care.

He’s almost forgotten that Magnus is even there when he’s interrupted mid-draw.

“Alexander! I’m all done.”

Alec’s arrow flies wide and he curses under his breath. What kind of archer is he if he gets distracted so easily?

“Magnus,” he says, lowering his bow but not looking at his—at him. “Did you find anything?”

“A warlock helped take down the wards, but I could not identify them,” Magnus answers. Alec squirms under his stare. He hates that he both wants nothing more than to be somewhere else and wants to hug Magnus and never let him go. “I pulled them back up and fortified them, so that a similar attack cannot happen again.”

“Thank you,” Alec says. “Is there really no way to know who it was? Wouldn’t they have to be more powerful than you to take down your wards?”

“Or know my patterns,” Magnus agrees. “But in this case, they exploited a flaw that was there because the wards hadn’t been updated in too long.”

Alec grimaces. It’s his fault. He knew the wards needed work, it’s been on his to-do list for months. He put it off because…

Because it required calling Magnus in.

He put the whole Institute in danger because he can’t keep his personal life separate.

“Do you need a little warlock TLC?” Magnus asks.

Alec looks up sharply, the flashback jarring. Magnus must take his shock for confusion, because he gestures to Alec’s arm.  “Your sister told me that you were injured in the fight.”

“My sister should mind her own business,” Alec mutters, trying to hide the pit opening in his stomach.

“She was simply recounting the events, as it is,” Magnus defends her. Alec doubts that Izzy lost an occasion to meddle at least a little, but he doesn’t comment.

“I’m fine,” he says instead.

“You don’t look like you’re fine,” Magnus insists. His voice is gentle, though it lacks some of the warmth that Alec has come to associate with him, the familiarity that his heart is weeping for.

Alec stares for a moment, eyes riveted  to Magnus’ lips,  to the curve of his nose – everything but his eyes, too intense and soulful, unbearable. He’s about to turn him away with something scathing, but he almost wants to—

He wants to hug him, to feel safe like he never has outside of Magnus’ arm, to _let go_ for the first time in months. He wants to cry his heart out and be held.

He wants _Magnus_.

“I don’t know what to do,” he murmurs.

It’s a bad idea, and he knows it. He’s staying away from Magnus for a reason. He has to respect Magnus’ choice, especially now that Magnus doesn’t even remember making that choice. Anything else is abusing his trust.

But now that the word are out, Alec can’t stop. “It’s like...everything’s been turned upside down. I’m trying to run this Institute, and work with the Downworld Cabinet, and it’s everything that I dreamed of growing up and yet...I can’t do it, Magnus. I can’t be what they expect me to be. I can’t—I can’t _live_ like this.” _I can’t live without you._

“Alexander,” Magnus starts, but he trails off. He reaches out, and this time Alec lets him, leaning into his touch. It’s just a hand on his arm, light and unsure, but it feels—

_ Wrong. _ They can’t do this. Not now, not like that. Alec would give almost anything to go back in time, to fix this, to stop Magnus before he removed his memories, but –  _ no, he wouldn’t _ . Magnus is happier with his magic and without his memories. What Alec feels doesn’t matter.

“I don’t know what to do,” he repeats brokenly.

“You can’t change things outside your control, but you can change your own life, Alexander,” Magnus says compassionately. “Do what’s in your heart.”

A lec makes a strangled sound and closes his eyes, stepping away from Magnus. “I can’t,” he chokes out.

He flees. As much as he can when he first has to put back his bow and get his cane. His arrows stay scattered on the targets, and he abandons them and Magnus, limping to his bedroom.

He hops into the shower, cursing at the time it takes him to undress and walk in. He runs water directly over his face and lets it hide the pouring tears. He collapses onto the recently installed shower seat, sobbing.

He can’t breathe. He swallows water and tears, choking,  and hits his head hard on the shower wall .  He hasn’t broken  down like this since Magnus healed him of the  venom – maybe since he was in the hospital  in Alicante . Since the day Maryse quietly announced that Magnus didn’t remember any of them.

H e doesn’t know how long he stays in the shower, but when he finally calms down, there is no light coming from the tiny window in his bathroom and his hip is killing him. He narrowly avoid falling on his ass as he gets out, hopping on his good leg, his head swimming from exhaustion.

He goes through the motions of drying himself and pulling on clean sweat pants, groaning when his body refuses to bend. He hates how hard everything has become, even dressing himself. He  re-bandages his arm and runs the towel over his face a few times, trying to erase the redness of his eyes to no avail.

When he comes out of his bathroom, Izzy and Jace are both sitting on his bed. Figures.

“Alec!” Izzy welcomes him with too much brightness for it to be genuine.

Alec doesn’t answer and collapses between his siblings. They scoot over until they’re all lying on the bed, with Alec in the middle. He slips his arm under Izzy’s head, relishing the pressure of her weight on him.

“Magnus was here,” Jace starts in a low voice. Alec wonders how long they’ve discussed what they’re going to tell him. He knows they’re worried. They’ve had a rough year. He wishes he could erase it all, make things easier for them. Erase the concern, the fears, the pain.

Erase himself from their lives.

Alec blinks against the thought and breathes through his mouth.

“Yeah,” he forces out, his voice hoarse.

“How did that go?”

Alec shrugs, his shoulder hitting Jace’s. The wound on his arm stings.

“He was concerned,” Izzy says. “I walked him out. He said you ran away.”

“He—” Alec trails off. He doesn’t know how to express it. “Seeing him, it’s hard. I’m not ready.”

Izzy sighs.

“Look, I know we’ve had this conversation a dozen times, but I still don’t get it,” Jace says. “Why don’t you just tell him everything? Asmodeus is dead. All of Edom is gone. Your deal doesn’t hold anymore.”

“You don’t know that,” Alec sighs, not in any mood to rehash this _again_ with his siblings.

“Come on, that’s a bogus argument and you know it. You only broke up with Magnus because of the deal. Doesn’t he deserve to know that?”

Alec shakes his head. “I need – we need – to respect his decision.”

“But he wouldn’t have made it if he knew about the deal!” Jace exclaims.

“You don’t know that,” Alec repeats. 

He doesn’t believe it, not completely. Things would have gone down differently, had Magnus known about the deal. But that’s exactly the issue: he didn’t. They don’t know what could have happened, and they can’t make decisions based on that.

“Alec,” Izzy starts quietly. “What’s the real reason why you won’t tell him?”

“He’s okay,” Alec says in a low tone, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“He’s happy. Or he will be. He has his magic back, and he can go on with his life. All I brought him was pain and heartbreak and danger.” Alec swallows. “Even if we’d managed to be happy together, it would have been just a few years, a blink in his lifespan, before more heartbreak. It’s better that way.”

“But what about you?” Izzy asks. She has that same look on her face, as the first time she asked him that. But she was sad and resigned, then. Now she’s...angry.

Alec shrugs. “I’ll survive,” he says.

“Bullshit,” Izzy says through her teeth. “Surviving isn’t _enough_ , and you’re barely doing that.”

“You think we can’t see how badly you’re doing?” Jace asks, now just as angry. “You’re not sleeping, Alec. Not eating. I can feel your pain, twenty-four seven. You can’t go on like that.”

Alec closes his eyes. He’s just admitted the same thing to Magnus, but hearing it from Jace and Izzy, from the people in his life who actually know what’s happening…

“I have to,” he murmurs. “It will get better, eventually.”

He doesn’t believe it, even as he says it.

“Will it?” Izzy asks doubtfully.

Alec doesn’t answer and buries his face in his pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to make you wait for almost an entire month! I have no idea where time is going, I swear.
> 
> This chapter was betaed by [JeanBoulet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanBoulet/pseuds/JeanBoulet) (thank you so much) and it's the one that actually contains the original prompt! It only took 20k words to get there...
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Side note: I am changing my handle to EchoBleu. I've set it as a pseud for now so my former name still appears but I'll be Echo from now on. The change won't break links to my fics but it will break links to my profile, and I also changed my tumblr (to echo-bleu).

If there is one thing particularly troubling about missing memories, it’s having no context to understand your own actions. Magnus asked Catarina, early on, to summarize the things he’s forgotten that are relevant for his job and political position, and it was one of the most bizarre conversations of Magnus’ life.

It seems that an impressive number of things happened in the last three years that he felt the need to erase from his memories, and Magnus doesn’t understand how any of them came to pass.  The most baffling to him is his apparent decision to ally with the Seelie Queen, of all people, which led him to losing his position as High Warlock of Brooklyn. He has vague memories of getting half the warlocks in the city to erect wards to keep in Valentine – and none of Valentine’s eventual demise, or how it all ended.

He remembers his annoyance toward Lorenzo Rey, but not how the irritating warlock handled his first year as Magnus’ replacement. And he definitely doesn’t remember whatever it is that made the warlock look at Magnus with the strange mixture of hatred and compassion that has characterized every one of their interactions in the past year.

Which is why, when he finds himself on the steps of the New York Institute for the second time in  a month, charged to argue for his recently-arrested colleague, Magnus feels singularly out of his depth.

“I’m here to see Jace Herondale,” he says when the door opens. It seems safer to start there than to go straight to Alec, which is why Magnus texted Jace first.

Magnus hasn’t talked to Alec since Alec essentially ran out on him in the training room,  but he  hasn’t stopped thinking  about the Shadowhunter.  Alec’s body language last time was highly confusing, like he wanted to be close to Magnus and far away at the same time, and for the life of him, Magnus can’t figure him out.

It’s another thing hindered by his missing memories.

Magnus knows he’s obsessing over them. It’s not healthy. He removed them for a reason, and maybe he should have destroyed them fully, just to save himself the temptation. It’s very hard to keep yourself to a past decision when you can no longer understand what drove you to make it.  He spends too much time staring at the box, day-dreaming at what is inside, when he should be scared of its contents.

“He’s waiting for you,” the blond Shadowhunter at the door says. He guides Magnus inside, into the large room buzzing with activity that Magnus has crossed a few times already. Their operation center. Magnus spots Jace and Isabelle on one side of the central table, talking with a pre-teen who already has runes apparent on his body. The three of them turn toward him at the same time.

“Magnus!” the boy shouts, running up to him. Magnus frowns, but he lets himself be manhandled into a hug.

Jace curses under his breath. “Max,” he calls. “Let him go. I told you, Magnus doesn’t—” He trails off, looking embarrassedly at Magnus, but Max steps away from Magnus. He bows his head and clasps his hands behind his back, in a miniature version of the pose Alec takes so often. “Sorry,” he mutters.

Isabelle puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Max. You should go get ready. You have a patrol tonight, remember?”

“It’s not fair,” the boy mutters. He looks up and glares at Magnus. “It’s not fair!”

“Max!” Isabelle snaps. “Go. Now.”

“Sorry about that,” Jace says as the boy runs out. “He’s our little brother.”

Magnus looks at them, seeing the sadness in their eyes that’s been present ever since he met them. This boy knows him. He knows Magnus well enough that he would hug him, a warlock, without thinking. Things related to his missing memories keep coming up, even when Magnus tries to focuses on something else.

“What are you doing here, Magnus?” Jace asks. “I was surprised you’d want to come to the Institute. The wards are fine, and Alec is—” 

Magnus doesn’t want to find out what Alec is doing. “I’ve been asked by my brethren to intercede in favor of Lorenzo Rey,” he says. “I heard he was arrested.”

Jace and Isabelle exchange a look. “It’s a strange case,” Jace says. “Why would they send _you_?”

Magnus shrugs. “Because  I have the interim High Warlock position by default, as the last person to hold that job.”

“Right,” Jace nods. “I thought it might be because you worked on the wards that were breached. Unfortunately, the case against him is strong. Unless you have new evidence to give us—”

“Lorenzo didn’t breach the Institute’s wards,” Magnus interrupts him. “I would have recognized his style. I may dislike him, but even I will admit that he has...distinction. The work was far too sloppy to be his.”

Jace makes a distasteful grimace. “I’m sorry Magnus, but I doubt that comments about _style_ will be enough to clear him.”

“Don’t you find it weird, that you were handed a suspect on a platter nearly a month after the fact?” Magnus asks.

Jace and Isabelle look at each other again, as if measuring what they can say. Isabelle takes a step toward Magnus, her voice low. “We know he didn’t do it,” she says. “But we can’t prove that he’s being framed. We’re working on it, but it’s not looking good. If you have any actual element to give us—”

“You’re just going to accuse and convict an innocent Downworlder, as usual,” Magnus spits out, more bitterly than he really means to. “One more, one less, it doesn’t make much of a difference to you, does it?”

Isabelle freezes, her hands turning into fists at her sides. Jace turns around and bows his head,  hands tight on the display table , as if he doesn’t want  Magnus to see his reaction; but what hits Magnus is the gesture itself: a Shadowhunter trusting him enough to turn his back on him is unheard of. He doesn’t know what in his pronouncement angered both siblings so much – th e se two deal with Downworlders regularly, this can’t be the worst thing they’ve heard.

N either of them  responds violently, though. “As hard as it may be to believe,” Isabelle says slowly, articulating every word, “Lorenzo is a…friend. None of us wants to see him convicted.”

A  friend? Lorenzo Rey, friend with Shadowhunters? Magnus recoils in surprise. Of course, Lorenzo would have to be working slightly more closely with the Institute as High Warlock, but when Magnus had the job, he never even met the Heads. He’s heard through Raphael about the Downworld Cabinet that Alec instituted, but he took it as no more than some superficial formality made to appease the various factions than something serious.

“What do you have against him?” Magnus asks.

“An eyewitness,” Jace says. “A Shadowhunter, from this Institute. He swears he saw Lorenzo in the greenhouse right before the attack, using his magic for something.”

“That’s not very solid evidence. Do you have a motive, at least?”

Isabelle sighs. “It’s enough for the Inquisitor to find him guilty. There’s no need for a motive other than being a warlock, unfortunately.”

Magnus bites back a scathing remark under the weight of Jace’s warning glare.

“Changes in the Clave are slow, and people aren’t ready to be progressive,” Jace says. “It doesn’t mean we agree with it. But if we want to help Lorenzo, we have to work with the system.”

“A system that will execute him sooner than release him,” Magnus points out.

“Clary was sentenced to death once,” Jace says with a sad nod. “I almost was, too. You were nearly executed in Valentine’s body – that’s a really long story,” he stops Magnus from asking. “My point is, we all made it out.”

Magnus gapes at this new piece of information. He has nothing in his head to connect it to, and it feels more like a lie, a story invented on the spot, than something that actually happened. What on earth could have led him to body-swap with  _Valentine_ ?

“We need to find the warlock who really breached the wards,” Isabelle says. “Quickly. Can you help us?”

Magnus nods, still reeling. “I can try.”  Suddenly feeling the need to be elsewhere, he turns around toward the exit.

“Magnus,” Isabelle calls after him.

Magnus stops and looks back at her. “ Yes ?”

She shifts from foot to foot, uncomfortable. “There’s something we wanted to talk to you about.”

Her and Jace’s hesitation makes Magnus forget his disquiet. Curiosity replaces it, and he turns fully toward them again. “What is it?”

“It’s about Alec. He’s, uh, he doesn’t want to talk to you about this, but—”

“But you think you should talk to me behind his back,” Magnus finishes with a small smirk.

He doesn’t know what to think of it. He doesn’t know if he wants to know whatever they have to say, if it has to do with his missing memories – and it has to, doesn’t it?

But then… Magnus hasn’t been able to get Alec out of his head, the past few weeks. Months. Ever since he healed Alec, and saw those memories inside his head, memories of himself that he doesn’t have anymore, he’s been obsessed with them. Him, kissing Alec. He finds himself daydreaming about what Alec’s lips might taste like – that’s how much of a disaster he is.

“He’s not doing well,” Jace says darkly. “I’m his parabatai, I can feel what he feels. We wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t important.”

Alec, the last time Magnus saw him, had managed to  _lose_ weight, from when he’d been dying from demon venom. He’d been hurting himself, hurling arrows at the targets with no regards for his own body. Yes, Magnus  could see it. “What am I supposed to do about that? I don’t  _know_ him.”

“But you did,” Isabelle says. “Look, I know you don’t remember, but he’s been torturing himself over what happened, and—”

“From my point of view,” Magnus stops her, “whatever happened was so bad that it led me to _choose_ to erase my own memories. Why on earth would I risk going through it all over again for a virtual stranger?”

“Because it wasn’t Alec’s fault,” Jace says.

“Because I can’t – I _won’t_ believe that you don’t still feel something for him,” Isabelle whispers at the same time.

Magnus swallows. He can hardly deny it, can he? That Alec is present in so many of his thoughts, so many of his dreams.

“If it wasn’t his fault, as you say, then why—” Magnus gestures helplessly.

“Because he loves you more than he loves himself,” Jace hits him with. “He’s convinced himself that you’re happier for not knowing him. But he doesn’t see what we see.”

“What is it that you see?”

“I don’t think you’re very happy,” Isabelle says. Magnus opens his mouth to protest, but she shakes her head. “I’ve seen you happy, and it didn’t look like this. And Alec…”

“Alec won’t ever be happy without you,” Jace finishes. “It’s not even about the ‘Nephilim only love once’ thing, because we know that’s not always true, but he’s even more closed off now than he was before he met you. It’s like he’s given up.”

Magnus closes his eyes. “What am I supposed to _do_?” he asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He doesn’t expect either of them to give him an actual answer. However much he doesn’t want to see Alec suffer, even though he doesn’t really know him, he also has to protect himself. Why should he trust the word of two Shadowhunters over his own choice to erase his memories?

And why, why does his brain betray him like this and want to listen to them?

He could just leave. Move away from New York, maybe to London – or not, because Magnus can’t quite think of Ragnor being gone yet – get away from this whole mess and start over. He’s done it enough times. He doesn’t have to hear of these Shadowhunters ever again. Soon enough they’ll be a thing of the past, anyway, and Magnus will live on.

So why can’t he bear the thought of that?

He needs more information, he decides. He can hear about what happened second-hand, and without the burden of the emotions tied to it, he’ll be able to make a rational decision, right?

“In his office, in the third drawer on the right in his desk, there are letters,” Isabelle says quietly, looking around her as if she expects Alec to show up any minute. “They’re addressed to you. I don’t know what’s in them, I didn’t snoop, but don’t you think you deserve to know?”

“How come you know they exist, if you didn’t snoop?” Magnus asks lightly, even though he feels anything but. Letters, addressed to him. A box, on his nightstand. He swallows around the crushing weight of the emotions raging inside him.

Jace looks briefly amused at his sister being  caught , but Isabelle sobers. “Alec took me and Jens aside and showed us the drawer,” she says. “When he was sick. It has letters for all of us. Instructions on what to do after he died.”

Magnus averts his eyes, the rush of emotions unexpected.

“You don’t think he removed them?” he asks once he’s sure he can trust his voice not to waver. “Now that he’s not dying anymore?”

“We’re always one mission away from dying,” Jace shrugs, as if it’s a perfectly normal thing to say. “It’s best to be prepared.”

And maybe that’s the rub. Relationships with mortals always end in heartbreak. Maybe Magnus simply couldn’t stand the thought of being left behind again.

*

Magnus feels more than a little uncomfortable, loitering outside Alec’s office. When he let Jace and Isabelle talk him into getting the letters, he didn’t think Alec would be _present_. He figured he’d just take a peek inside, locate the desk, and conjure the letters out of the drawer once he’d seen it.

But now he’s here, and he has no real choice but to go through with it or give it up and go home, in which case he’ll probably never get another chance to understand what really happened.

Darting a few looks around to make sure that he’s alone, he holds up his hands to make a frame and lets his magic do the trick. A portion of the wall disappears between his fingers, making a peephole to look inside the office.

Alec is standing by his desk, his shirt hitched up on his right side and his pants pulled down as far as they will go without undoing them, contorting to draw runes on his hip. Magnus watches him for a moment, fascinated and uncomfortable. He recognizes the runes, Heat, Painless, Protection, without knowing where this knowledge comes from.

S haking himself, he focuses on the desk itself, trying to guess the position of the third drawer on the right from what he can see from here. He brings the  drawer’s content s to himself and sorts through  them quickly, only keeping the stack of letters with his name on it and sending the rest –  a small unmarked box and a second stack of envelopes – back  into the drawer . He won’t push so far as to read letters not addressed to him.

He already feels bad enough as it is to have agreed to violate Alec’s privacy like that.  The only thing that made him decide was hearing from his siblings how badly he’s been doing.

It’s obvious, looking at him. Out of a morbid kind of curiosity, Magnus reforms the peephole with his fingers, and he can see the way Alec’s ribs stick out, the gauntness of his face.  The pain in his features as he shifts and grabs his cane, slipping his stele back into his pocket.

M agnus drops his hands just in time for Alec to walk out, and he tries to feign coming toward the door. Alec halts his steps as soon as he sees Magnus.

“Magnus,” he says, his voice almost breaking. He clears his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Advocating for Lorenzo Rey, apparently,” Magnus affects lightness. “He didn’t do whatever it is you’re accusing him of.”

A lec sighs. “ Y ou should talk to Izzy, not me.  She’s the one in charge of the case. ”

“I just did,” Magnus nods. “I was just coming here to say hello.”

Alec narrows his eyes in suspicion, like he knows Magnus is lying, but he doesn’t push. “I have to go,” he says. “I have an appointment in Alicante in an hour.”

“Alicante?” Magnus frowns.

“Clave business,” Alec shrugs. “I should thank you, actually.”

“What for?”

“You told me to...follow my heart,” Alec grimaces, like he’s just swallowed something sour. “I mean, change the things I can control. So I did.”

Magnus shakes his head in incomprehension.

Alec works his jaw.  “ Alicante is still under reconstruction, and we lost so many people. There are a lot of position s that haven’t been filled, and some that Jia Penhallow had to fill with people who don’t agree with her politically. She’s trying to even things out, but we’re rebuilding the Council from scratch .”

“Alexander, why are you telling me this?”

“The current Inquisitor is a...well, an asshole. He’s technically only Acting Inquisitor, because there hasn’t been a proper vote from the Council, since it was incomplete. Jia has asked me to consider running against him. I accepted. She wants me to work with her until the vote, so I’ll be moving to Alicante in a month.”

Magnus feels like he’s just swallowed a  golf ball.  “ What?”

“Izzy and Jens Storberg will be in charge while I’m gone,” Alec continues, oblivious to Magnus’ dismay – or pretending to ignore it. “If the Council decides to give me the job permanently, someone else will be named Head. I won’t come back to New York.”

“But this is _your_ Institute,” Magnus protests. “Everyone I asked was adamant that you made it what it is.”

Alec swallows. “I can’t stay,” he says.

“Why?” Magnus asks, with a sinking feeling that he already knows the answer.

Alec doesn’t answer, looking down at his feet. His grip on his cane is so tight that his knuckles are white.

“Is it because of me?” Magnus asks in a breath.

Alec looks back up, slowly, never meeting his eyes. He settles his gaze somewhere over Magnus’ shoulder.

“You make me want things I can’t have,” he murmurs. He closes his eyes, his face a mask of pain. “No. That’s not true. It’s what I thought when I first met you, that I couldn’t have all those things, but it turns out that I could. I _did._ And I ruined it all.” He opens his eyes again. “I’m sorry, Magnus. I know you don’t even remember, but I am so sorry.”

“Alexander—” Magnus reaches out.

Alec shakes his head,  stepping away . “I have to go.  I— I’ll be very busy for the next few weeks. I  probably won’t see you again before I leave. ”

Magnus drops his hand in defeat.

“Goodbye, Magnus,” Alec says softly before turning away.

*

The trouble with a private meeting with Jia Penhallow, with no one but Aline as their audience, is that there is no room for Alec to hide how awful he feels.

They notice. Jia stops in the middle of a sentence twice to ask him if he’s okay. Alec would be worried about his future job if he didn’t know that he already has her full support, and their main hurdle will be the Council. He still tries to play it down, but neither woman looks convinced by his protests that he’s fine.

“Alec,” Aline takes him by the arm as soon as they’re out of Jia’s office. “What’s going on with you?”

Alec shrugs, swallowing down the knot in his throat that threatens to spill out. “Nothing.” He winces when Aline tugs at his arm and it forces him to put his weight on his bad leg.

Aline catches it. “Are you in pain? If it’s a physical issue, you know Mom won’t think any less of you for that. We could have postponed the meeting.”

“No, I’m good,” Alec shakes his head. It’s the truth, he’s not in any more pain than he always is.

“Then what’s wrong?” Aline pushes. “Come on, I’ve never seen you this distracted.”

Alec sighs. All he wants is to take the portal back to the Institute and hide in his room for the rest of the day. Let go, finally, of everything he’s bottled up. But he doesn’t have that luxury.

He did what he had to do, he tells himself. Magnus is getting too close, and it’s not good for either of them. He promised himself he would stay away, and that’s what he’s doing.

H e shouldn’t feel like he’s losing Magnus a second time.

“Earth to Alec,” Aline waves a hand in front of his face. “Angel, you’re really out of it. Come on, I’m taking you to lunch and you’re going to tell me what’s going on. That’s non-negotiable.”

Alec huffs in defeat and follows her. When she gets in a mood, Aline is a force of nature, and he knows he won’t be able to argue his way out of this. “How’s the wedding coming along?” he asks in a weak attempt to distract her.

“Oh, just _fine_ ,” Aline rolls her eyes. “We’ve got five weeks left and we still don’t have a venue. Apparently no place in Alicante is willing to host a gay wedding where one of the brides is a half-Seelie. I thought my last name would help, but we’ve been rejected everywhere.”

Alec stops walking. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I didn’t know you were having trouble with that. If you don’t mind getting married outside Alicante, we can do it at the Institute.”

Aline’s eyes widen. “Really? Alec, I—I didn’t want to ask, because I know this is hard for you—”

“Helen’s asked me to be her suggenes,” Alec says, swallowing. It _is_ hard, thinking of Magnus and the ring in his desk drawer every time he hears about the wedding, but Aline and Helen are among his best friends. They deserve this. “I’m happy for you both, and I would be honored to host your wedding, Aline.”

Aline pulls him closer to hug him and Alec does his best not to stiffen, bracing himself on his cane to keep his balance. “Thank you,” she says in his shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

“Eat,” she glares at him a few minutes later, once they’re seated in the small restaurant and their dishes have been served. “I’ve seen you skip too many meals.”

Alec takes a bite of his steak. It ta st es like cardboard, like everything does these days. He doesn’t have any appetite. “You have no idea if I skip meals or not,” he retorts. “ One of the perks of being the Head of the Institute is that I get to have my meals brought to me.”

“Yeah, and you send them back untouched,” Aline says. “I happen to be friends with one of the cooks.”

“So what, you monitor everyone’s eating habits?”

Aline shrugs. “Nope, just yours. Need to make sure my boss isn’t going to topple over in the middle of a meeting with my mom.”

Alec glares at her. “I wasn’t going to pass out,” he says.

“You’re depressed, Alec,” Aline grows serious. “We’ve all noticed it. Jace and Izzy are worried out of their minds for you, and Jens is hoarding paperwork trying to lighten your load. Even _Kara_ came to ask me if you’re okay.”

Alec leans back in his seat and sighs. He knows he’s not doing well. His siblings have tried to talk to him about it multiple times, and even his mother keeps trying to invite him over to discuss it. He hoped he was doing a better job than this at keeping his private life separate from his work, but he’s obviously terrible at that, too. Between that and his failure to keep the Institute safe…

“I’m not being a very good Head, am I?” he says bitterly. “I’ll probably do even worse as an Inquisitor.”

“Alec, this isn’t about your professionalism,” Aline says. “You’ll be a great Inquisitor, if you get the job. Your head isn’t in the game right now, and that happens to the best of us. But you’ve got to take better care of yourself.”

She leans over the table to lay her hand on his. “You’ve been through a lot the last few months, more than I can imagine going through.  And the whole time you’ve still managed to run one of the largest Institutes in the world and do it well. It’s okay if you need to take some time for yourself.”

“I can’t,” Alec mutters.

“Why?”

Because if he does, he’ll collapse. If he stops filling his head and occupying his hands with the dozens of decisions and paperwork he does for the Institute every day, he’ll be left with  _nothing_ . Nothing but the hole inside him in the shape of Magnus.

“I just can’t,” he says, pushing back his half-eaten plate. “Thanks for the lunch, Aline. I’ve got to get back.”

“Alec,” Aline catches his wrist as he stands up, forcing him to sit back down. “You’ve got friends and family who love you. Don’t push us away.”

Alec just stares at her hand until she lets him go. He doesn’t feel capable of responding without bursting into tears, and that’s the last thing he wants.

His phone assaults his ears just before he steps through the portal back to New York.  He waits until he’s made it back to his office – thankfully right beside the portal room – to pick up. Jace’s excited voice greets him, and Alec simultaneously becomes conscious of the warmth radiating from his parabatai rune. Good warmth. Jace is happy, in a way he hasn’t been since—

“Clary’s recognized me!” Jace almost shouts into the phone.

Alec lowers the volume and limps to his desk to sit down. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“She knows who I am. She said my name and she remembers how we met. Alec, I think the angels have forgiven her!”

Alec pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s great,” he says. It really is. He won’t admit it – okay, maybe he will – but he’s missed Clary like he’d miss a little sister. And Jace needs her. Izzy, too, he thinks. But he’s also really, really not in the mood to deal with Jace’s happiness right now.

It would figure, that Clary would start regaining her memories on the day Alec definitively says goodbye to Magnus, right?

“Where are you?” he asks.

“At Clary’s art school,” Jace says. “I was thinking of bringing her to Luke first, since she didn’t completely forget him. Familiarity would be good, right?”

“Right,” Alec agrees without trying to think about it. “Do that. Call Simon, too. Give her time, okay? Don’t push her too quickly.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Jace says. “I just—I thought you should know. But we’ll go slow.”

“Thank you,” Alec breathes.

H e hangs up before Jace can say anything else.  Before he can even take a minute to process, someone knocks at his door. Alec throws his phone on the desk and grits his teeth. “Yes?”

I t’s Underhill. Alec is almost ready to tell him to get lost, before he notices Underhill’s solemn demeanor, as he steps through and immediately stands at attention. He doesn’t look good, Alec notices. Of course. Lorenzo is still in the cell below the Institute, and they’re no closer to getting him free than they were two days ago when he was arrested.

“Come in,” he gestures Underhill closer. “I assume this is about Lorenzo.”

“I just wanted to know—”

“If I have news from the Consul,” Alec finishes. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything good. Her hands are tied, as long as we don’t have any other convincing suspect.”

“He didn’t do it,” Underhill says.

“I know. But the evidence is against him. The best I can do is push to have the trial here. He’s going to need a defender.”

“He can defend himself.”

Alec shakes his head.  “ Not this time.  Not against the Clave . I would do it, but as the Head of the Institute, I can’t. Neither can you,” he adds before  Underhill can open his mouth.

“Then who?”

Alec watches the desperation on  Underhill’s face, the fear, all too familiar, and he sighs. “Hire Magnus,” he says. “For the right price, he’ll do it, and he’ll do it well. He defended Izzy, once. It was before yo u came here , but the Clave was dead set on punishing her for something she didn’t do, because Downworlders were involved.”

“Alec, I—are you sure?”

Alec nods. He’ll do anything to give them the happiness that he and Magnus were robbed of by the circumstances, he decides. Underhill and Lorenzo deserve it. Alec may have started out despising Lorenzo, but they’ve grown much closer since they’ve been working on the Downworld Cabinet together, and he’d be willing to call him a friend, now. As for Underhill, he’s been an invaluable support in the last few months. Not just to Alec, but to Kara as well, to Max and all the other young Shadowhunters they’ve taken in since Alicante.

A nd this whole mess? It feels like Izzy’s trial and Jace’s imprisonment and the GPS chip disaster all over again, like another occasion for the Clave and the Circle – or whatever they call themselves now – to mess with them until they lose everything.

Alec won’t let that happen again.

“Go to Magnus,” he says. “Tell him I’ll pay the price myself, if he requires it. We’ll get Lorenzo out of there if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

“Thank you, sir,” Underhill breathes.

A lec can’t salvage what’s already broken, but maybe he can make things right for someone else.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upping the chapter count, because there's no way I'll fit the rest of the story in one chapter. The last chapter might end up being more of an epilogue, we'll see. For now, Magnus has letters to read.

Magnus claps his hands and lets his magic wash over him, changing his day outfit into a pair of silk pajamas. He stands in front of his full-sized mirror and guides his power to remove his makeup and his hair gel, taking a critical look at himself.

His reflection looks tired. Concealer has been his friend, but here in the harsh light of his bathroom, he looks like he hasn’t slept in days – which isn’t far from the truth. His sleep has been plagued with confusing dreams for weeks, and he spends more time tossing and turning than actually resting.

He sighs and walks back into his bedroom, letting himself drop onto the bed. If only he could get Alec’s infinitely sad face out of his mind. _“Goodbye, Magnus.”_

The stack of letters has been sitting on Magnus’ nightstand for days, beside the memory box. Magnus runs his finger over the carved bow on the box, the red of the arrow fletching the only touch of color on the dark wood.

He hasn’t opened the letters yet. He feels awful for even taking them, for betraying Alec’s trust like this. He has no right to them, whatever Alec’s siblings might say. And yet they attract him almost ineluctably. He can feel their pull, taking away his concentration, rendering him unable to think of anything else.

His hands move almost without his consent. The first letter, at the top of the stack, seems to be the oldest, and that’s the one Magnus opens. He scoots back on his bed until he’s against the headboard, pulling the covers to himself.

He almost jumps at his name, at the top of the letter. It feels wrong to see it there, in a stranger’s handwriting, and yet something in him calls for familiarity. He traces the name with his thumb without thinking.

_Dear Magnus,_

_I don’t know why I’m writing to you. I guess that a part of me doesn’t want to believe that you really don’t remember me, us, and I’m trying to hang on to you in the only way I know how. It hasn’t even been a week since I broke up with you, but it already feels like an eternity. I wonder what time feels like for you, if it still stretches and snaps after living for centuries._

_I don’t know if I can face the thought of living the rest of my time on Earth without you. The fact that it won’t be long is almost a consolation. Almost._

_I guess it’s better this way. You’ve got your magic and your immortality back. You can move on, be happy. I’m relieved that you won’t have to watch me waste away and die. I know that was one of your biggest fears, our biggest fear, that I would eventually die and you would live on._

_I hoped that we would have more time. Our time together was like a dream come true, but life has a strange way of catching up to you._

The handwriting is shaky and sloppy, like the hand holding the pen was trembling. It’s barely legible in places, the paper almost torn through. Magnus looks up at the date. Five days after the Battle of Alicante, if he’s not mistaken. With the Pervious venom in his system and a shattered hip, Alec must have been in agony.

But more than his physical pain, what transpires through the words is the depth of his emotional distress.

_I’m dying. Catarina said that the venom cannot be purged, that if I’m lucky, I have a few months left. Maybe a year._

_I’m terrified, Magnus. I shouldn’t be. We Shadowhunters prepare for death and pain from the first day of our training. I used to think that when death came for me, I would welcome it, and there was a time when I might have. But now, I realize that I’m not ready to die._

_You’ve taught me that every moment is worth living. I was barely surviving when I met you. I was just going through the motions. The burden of my family and the Clave was too heavy on my shoulders for me to see life as anything more than a duty. I didn’t know how to enjoy waking up to the sun shining on my face, or watering flowers and watching them grow, or smiling at another person just because I can. You taught me all of that._

Magnus blinks back tears, smoothing the letter with his thumb. He stops reading and stares at the wall without seeing it. His mind is desperately trying to fill in the blanks of the time he’s missing, and the box calls to him more and more.

This is almost too intimate. The letters are addressed to a person that isn’t him. A stranger. Someone who shared Alec’s life for the last few years and loved him. Magnus shouldn’t be reading them.

But now that he’s started, he can’t stop.

_The very first time we met, at Pandemonium, I barely got a glimpse of you. I shot a Circle member that was about to attack you and you opened a portal and left. I don’t think I even registered your face and how it made me feel until hours later._

_I used to think that I was in love with Jace. How wrong I was. What I felt for him, beyond our parabatai bond, was a pale imitation of romantic love, something I’d convinced myself that I felt because Jace was unattainable. He was safe._

_You were not. I was terrified of the feelings that you brought up in me. I felt a pull toward you that was almost irresistible, even though I tried. I’d never felt that way before. I don’t think I knew what attraction was before I met you._

_I didn’t know what happiness was before I met you._

*

Magnus startles at a knock on his front door. He frowns, putting down the letter in his hand.

He hasn’t been able to go to sleep, so he’s been slung over his bed in his pajamas, slowly making his way through the letters. He can only read so many words at a time before emotions grip him again and he has to stop and breathe. He can make himself forget memories, remove them from his brain, but he can’t remove the emotions. His brain still knows them, and it’s mending those neural pathways as Magnus reads.

He was a fool to think it would be safe. He should stop reading right now, banish the letters back to Alec’s drawer. This is dangerous.

Grumbling as a second knock sounds through the loft, he jumps to his feet. Is it already late enough for a social call? Who is knocking on his door at – he checks the time magically – nine in the morning? Not a vampire, that’s for sure, unless it’s the Daylighter.

Magnus changes his outfit with a flap of his hands, regretting the nice and warm shower his sore back is crying for, and he tucks the letter back into its envelope. It wouldn’t do to leave it lying around, in case it’s Alec at the door.

He feels his heart skip a beat at that thought, but it won’t be Alec. Alec is moving to Alicante. Alec said goodbye.

Fuck.

He’s more than a little annoyed when he throws open the door of the loft, to find a Shadowhunter he barely knows on the other side.

“What do _you_ want?” Magnus asks through his teeth.

The blond Shadowhunter bows his head slightly. “Warlock Bane. I am… I’m in need of your services.”

Magnus blinks. “My services? You’re one of Alec’s lieutenants, right?”

“Andrew Underhill. I’m his Head of Security. But I’m not here for him, I’m here for Lorenzo Rey.”

Magnus stays frozen for a moment, trying to process that. A Shadowhunter at his door, asking for his services, for Lorenzo Rey of all people. Sure, Magnus has been trying to find whoever framed Lorenzo for days, because the Council has asked him to, but he didn’t expect _this_.

“Come in,” he grumbles eventually. He shows the Shadowhunter to his couch and makes himself a drink, not bothering to ask Underhill if he wants one. “Why do you care about Lorenzo?”

Underhill hesitates almost imperceptibly. “He’s my partner,” he says.

Magnus freezes, still with his back to Underhill. A Shadowhunter boyfriend. Sure, he’s heard rumors, but no one ever confirmed them, so he didn’t put too much weight behind them. People usually gossip to Magnus. He figured that if it was true, he’d have heard it from Catarina or Dot.

But then again, everyone’s carefully avoided telling him about _another_ mixed relationship: his own. It’s only just starting to sink in that whatever he had with Alec was far more than a fling, a short-term thing that ended in disaster. And all his friends have so carefully avoided the subject that Magnus heard nothing about it until he crossed paths with Alec again.

It feels like every move he makes brings out the things he’s missing in sharp relief.

“Lorenzo,” he says, a little stunned. “And you?”

“Yeah,” Underhill shrugs as Magnus turns around to face him. “I know, we’re very different.”

“If it works for you, who am I to judge?” Magnus says almost reflexively, taking a large sip of his drink to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth.

Underhill winces a little. “I know you don’t like him, but...he’s not what most people think. Not really.”

“What do you want from me?”

“The Clave has set a trial date, in two weeks. Lightwood pushed for it to be at the Institute. We want you to be Lorenzo’s counsel.”

Magnus stares. “Why me? The Spiral Council has lawyers for that purpose.”

Underhill considers him for a moment, and Magnus holds his gaze, even with his mind going through the options opening in front of him. Whatever he may think of Lorenzo, he doesn’t want to see him burn for something he didn’t do. That, and a High Warlock being executed for attacking his local Institute would hurt their standing a lot. His arrest is already making things complicated.

Magnus is no lawyer, but he has more experience than most to weigh against the Clave, and it was _his_ wards that were breached. It could be a good move. But he doubts that Underhill came up with it himself.

“Lightwood suggested you,” the Shadowhunter admits. “He said that he’s seen you do it before. With his sister?”

“I’ve never—” Magnus starts, but he stops abruptly. With his memories gone, _never_ has become overrated. _I’ve never defended someone in court. I’ve never been friends with Shadowhunters. I’ve never loved a Nephilim._ Who knows what other impossible things he’s done in the last three years?

“Lorenzo fought the idea, but even he admitted that you’re the best option,” Underhill says.

“You got to see him?” Magnus asks in honest surprise. “I thought he’d be in the Gard by now.”

“No, he’s still at the Institute. Another thing Lightwood pushed for.”

“How is he doing?”

Underhill sighs. “As well as possible. At least he’s not being treated badly. But unless we find out who framed him, it’s not looking good for him.”

Magnus takes another swig of his drink and sinks into his favorite armchair, more dramatically than he would if he were alone. “Alright. But I’m not going to do it for free.”

To his credit, Underhill nods immediately. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

“I’m sure I can come to an agreement with Lorenzo on a few items I’d like when I go see him,” Magnus says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But I want other things, too.”

Underhill straightens his posture. “Name them.”

“I want my old position back,” Magnus starts. He _doesn’t_ remember what on Earth he could have done to get himself voted out, and that bothers him even more than not being the one other warlocks come to with problems anymore.

Underhill winces a little, but he nods. “He won’t be happy, but it’s better than being executed. I’ll make it happen.”

Magnus blinks at his certitude. A Nephilim confident that he can get a warlock to do something he doesn’t want to do – that’s peculiar. Especially when the warlock in question is the annoying, master-of-bad-faith Lorenzo Rey.

“You’re aware that it’s an elective position, right?”

Underhill shrugs. “I can’t sway the warlocks’ votes, but I can get Lorenzo to give you his support. If you get him out of this, the other warlocks will be thankful. And if...if it goes wrong, you’re the next in line anyway.”

Magnus stares at him for a moment. Not only is this Shadowhunter in love with a warlock – and for all his face remains mostly expressionless, the love is obvious – but he’s also knowledgeable in warlock politics. Where has the world gone?

“I want something else,” Magnus says. “But not from you or Lorenzo.”

Underhill nods in understanding. “Lightwood—Alec said that he’s willing to pay the price if that’s what you ask.”

Magnus assesses the Shadowhunter, wondering how close he is to Alec. He’s a gay Shadowhunter, in love with a warlock. They have things in common.

“I want a meeting with him,” he says. “Here.”

“I will pass that on,” Underhill nods. He hesitates. “I know I have no right to ask you this, given that I’ve come for help, but...Alec’s one of the best people I know. Please, don’t ask too much of him.”

Magnus tilts his head, seeing an opportunity. “I won’t,” he says. “If you tell me everything you know about him.”

Underhill blinks. “I—he’s my boss. I can’t—”

“I’m not asking you for details about his private life,” Magnus rolls his eyes. “Just tell me about him. What kind of boss is he?”

Underhill gives him a wary look, and he sits forward, his back ramrod straight, his hands crossed on his lap. A soldier in every way.

“He’s the best Head I’ve ever had,” he says slowly, uncomfortable. “I’ve only been in New York for two years, but he’s the reason I want to stay. I’ve had a lot of commanding officers, and he’s not like any of them. He’s...he’s patient, always kind, and he never asks any of us to do something he wouldn’t do himself.” He pauses. “He’s the reason why I came out. Without him showing us the way, we would all still be in the closet, maybe for the rest of our lives.”

“We?” Magnus notices.

“There’s been dozens of transfer requests from Shadowhunters all over the world,” Underhill explains. “People who’ve heard of Alec and...well, you, and who want to work with him. Before your relationship became public, it was almost impossible for us to be out as LGBT+, or mixed-race couples. It was something that was hidden and never spoken about. Now we have weekly meetings at the Institute.”

Magnus stares in surprise. Of course, the Nephilim are traditional and bigoted, he’s always known that, but he didn’t expect to hear _this_. There’s still so much he’s missing, he realizes. He kind of assumed that his and Alec’s relationship, whatever it really was, was something they kept private – it would make sense for Alec’s family and Magnus’ friends to know, but the entire Shadowhunter society?

“When did he come out?” he asks.

Underhill hesitates. “It was before I got transferred,” he says. “I only know what I’ve heard, and I’m not sure I should—”

Magnus waves a hand in annoyance. “If you want me to help Lorenzo—” He knows, vaguely, that it’s low and uncharitable, but he feels unmoored, like the world has tilted off its axis.

Underhill stiffens. “Fine. Word of mouth is – and I don’t know how much of this is true – that Alec was going to get married to a Nephilim woman. Apparently you showed up in the middle of the wedding and he stepped down from the altar and kissed you in front of everyone. It made a lot of noise at the time, it’s the first time I heard of him.”

Dramatic. If this is true, Magnus doesn’t know Alec anywhere near as well as he thought. He feels a pang in his heart at the thought, something that feels suspiciously like jealousy – toward who? himself? – and his queasiness only grows stronger.

“I don’t know exactly what went down between you two,” Underhill says in a lower voice. “It’s none of my business. But you should know that we’re all really thankful to you for healing him.”

“We?”

“The Institute,” Underhill clarifies. “Lorenzo and the Downworld Cabinet, too. Alec has made a lot of friends over the years, and the Lightwoods are central to the local Shadow World. Watching them fall apart like that...it was heartbreaking.”

Magnus doesn’t know what to do with that, so he stands up brutally and goes to refill his glass. He needs to hold off on the drinking, it’s not even ten in the morning, but his hands need something to hold.

“Thank you for answering my questions,” he says coolly, his back to Underhill, because he can’t deal with his emotions while the Shadowhunter is still here. “Tell Alec I’ll be in touch with him for that meeting. I’ll come to prepare Lorenzo’s defense tomorrow morning.”

He hears Underhill stand up, but he doesn’t turn around. “Thank you for helping us, Warlock Bane. I’m leaving a card with my number so you can reach me. I’ll make sure that the rest of your payment is ready as soon as possible.”

Magnus just nods and doesn’t move until the front door closes behind the Shadowhunter. He puts his glass down on the bar and finds that his hands are trembling.

What is happening to him?

*

_Dear Magnus,_

_Every time Mom comes to sit with me, I keep thinking about how much she’s changed in the last three years. She was so cold and distant through my childhood, and now she’s grown into this caring, warm person that I don’t even recognize._

_I remember how she would barely speak to me after I kissed you at my wedding. How enraged she was that I kissed a_ warlock _and embarrassed our family. You were an incredible support that day, on top of the best first kiss I could have hoped for. Without you, I would have caved and obeyed her. I almost did._

_She’ll never be the perfect mother to me, to any of us except maybe Max, but she’s really trying to make up for her mistakes. I thought getting deruned would destroy her, but it did the opposite. She’s more open than I’ve ever known her, and I think she’s even happy. Or, well, she was._

_She’s mourning. We all are. She had to get a special permission to even come to Alicante to watch over her dying son. I was too sick to go to Dad’s Rite of Mourning._

_I feel like the whole world went upside down, Magnus. I feel like you were my light, and now I’m lost in the darkness. I don’t know what to do._

*

“Alec!”

The voice comes as a surprise, just as Alec makes it inside his office. He barely has time to brace himself on his cane before he’s hit by a hundred-something pounds of red-haired girl. Clary wraps her arms around his chest and buries her head in his lapel, hugging him tight.

After a moment of surprise, Alec squeezes her back with his free arm. “Hey, Clary,” he murmurs.

She looks up at him without letting him go, her face full of tears. She tries to say something, but it comes out as a hiccup.

“Wow, I didn’t know you liked me this much, Fray,” Alec jokes, even though his throat feels tight.

“Me neither,” Clary smiles through her tears. “Sorry, I just...when I got my memories back, I thought you might be—”

Alec nods and pats her back. “I’m fine. Though I’m going to fall over if you don’t let me go.”

“Sorry,” she winces, taking a step back to let him regain his balance. “You still—” she gestures to Alec’s cane.

Alec turns away and closes the door behind them without answering. He feels Clary’s heavy gaze on him as he limps through his office to sit on the couch. “Didn’t get any miraculous healing,” he says. “Just a load of raw power from Magnus. Took care of the Pervious venom, barely, but he couldn’t help more than Catarina for the rest.”

“I—I’m sorry,” Clary hesitates, drying her face with her sleeve.

Alec shakes his head and pats the couch beside him. “So, you’re back.”

“I’m back,” Clary beams at him, dropping onto the couch.

“How does that feel?”

“Good! I don’t know. Weird, too. I’m scared,” she admits.

“That it won’t last?” Alec asks. He knows Jace feels the same way, and he understands where they come from.

“Yeah, I guess. If the angels took my memories and my runes and then gave them back...what prevents them from taking them again?”

Alec turns toward her fully and puts a hand on her shoulder. “We’re all there, Clary. One bad day away from...death, losing someone we love, a lifelong disability. Especially us.”

Clary makes a face that’s too close to pity and Alec realizes a little too late that he’s just described everything he lost in Alicante. He winces and shakes his head. “What I mean is: just take it. You’ve got your memories back. Take it and enjoy it.”

Clary takes a breath. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.”

“How was art school?” Alec asks.

“Not as good as I thought it would be!” Clary shrugs with a smile. “I mean, for mundane-me, it was a huge dream. Dreams are always better in your head. And this—” she waves her arm to encompass the building around them, “—this is what I’m really meant for. The whole time I felt like something was missing.”

“What was it like?” Alec asks as lightly as he can. “Missing memories like that.”

“Weird. I didn’t have a good explanation for it. Luke kept saying that I’d hit my head and I believed him, but it didn’t really make sense. Now it feels like...a dream.” She pauses and assesses Alec critically. “Magnus still doesn’t remember, does he?”

Alec shakes his head wordlessly.

Clary deflates a little. “How are you really doing?” she asks.

“I’m okay.” Alec doesn’t let Clary’s disbelieving frown stop him. “I’m, uh, moving to Alicante in three weeks. Looks like I might be the next Inquisitor.”

“What? That’s amazing! That’s a huge promotion, right?”

“It’s not a done deal,” Alec tempers. “But yes, it would be pretty big.”

“I’m happy for you,” Clary smiles, and there’s so much sincerity in her voice that Alec has to swallow around the knot in his throat. “You deserve it so much.”

Alec smiles back tightly. “I don’t know about that. But I’ll do my best to prove worthy of it.”

“Come on, Alec! I know I haven’t been around, but even I know that you’re single-handedly responsible for the Shadow World’s good relationships right now. You’re our rock, you know? You’ve carried us all through the last few years. I might not always have liked it, but we couldn’t have done anything without you.”

Alec stares at her in disbelief for a moment. “Seriously?”

Clary straightens and grows more grave. “Yes. You know, getting my memories back after losing months like that, it’s an interesting way to acquire perspective. Maybe I’ve grown while I was gone, or I was just too deep into my problems before, but I can see how self-centered I was at times. I didn’t see the burdens that you were all carrying long before I came along.”

Alec nods slowly, putting his hand on hers. He meets her eyes briefly, then smirks to break the tension. “Little girl, all grown up,” he teases.

Clary gives him a mock-slap on the arm. “Hey, I still have a name!”

“Thank you, though,” Alec says more seriously. “You sure were infuriating at times. But I misjudged you too. I shouldn’t have resented you for not being as mature as we were forced to be. You got a chance at a real childhood, and that’s a good thing.”

“I’m ready for more, now,” Clary says with a grateful nod. “I want to finish my training properly. Get my runes in order this time.”

“I’ll sponsor you for the Academy,” Alec offers. “They should be able to give you accelerated basic training, and let you choose a specialty within a few months.”

“That’s awesome, thank you,” Clary beams at him.

They talk for a little while longer about the Academy and Clary’s options before Alec forces himself off the couch. “I’m sorry, but I need to get back to work,” he says. “Thank you for coming. I’m really glad you’re back.”

“Of course, I shouldn’t keep you!” Clary jumps to her feet. “I’m so happy you’re healed, Alec. Really.” She nearly saunters to the door in her enthusiasm. “I’ll see you soon!”

“Clary,” Alec calls her back quietly before she opens the door. “Magnus—Magnus helped us, helped Jace while you were gone. Did Jace tell you?”

Clary nods silently, looking unsure.

“He remembers you. He should know that you’re back.”

“I—” Clary hesitates. “I’m going to see him. I wasn’t sure you’d want to know.”

“That’s good,” Alec nods, too stiffly. He swallows. “He did a lot for us, even without remembering us. He’s...he’s still Magnus.”

“Fuck, Alec,” Clary mutters, retracing her steps to hug him again. “I’m so sorry.”

Alec hugs her back and sighs, closing his eyes.

*

_Dear Magnus,_

_I’m finally back in New York. Being stuck in Alicante was awful, but I didn’t anticipate how much I would feel your presence here in the Institute. You’re everywhere. I’m still in the infirmary and not leaving anytime soon, but I’m in the same room where I waited for you to wake up after you rejected Lorenzo’s magic. I can still see your face if I close my eyes, remember how terrified I was. I can’t believe that it was only a couple months ago. It feels like an eternity._

_Catarina looks even sadder when she looks at me now than she did that day. We haven’t told Madzie that I’m dying. She’s lost too much already in her short life, and I don’t know how she’ll handle it._

_I hope you remember enough of her to love her. I would never forgive myself if my own mistakes took that away from her._

_Us babysitting her at the loft is one of my favorite memories of us. It only happened a few times, before and after you lost your magic, but she never failed to put that beautiful smile on your face. I found myself dreaming for things I’d never dared dream of, Magnus. We never spoke about it, but I dreamed about having children of our own. Maybe adopting a young warlock and sparing them a childhood like yours, or taking in one of the Nephilim war orphans and giving them a better future. I wanted it so badly._

_I hope you find someone who loves you like you deserve. Someone who can give you what I couldn’t._

*

Magnus thought that meeting up with old friends would take his mind off his unhealthy obsession with Alec’s letters, but instead he finds himself annoyed and itching to go back to them. He fidgets with his glass. His first meeting with Lorenzo in the Institute cell showed him that the other warlock is in fact well treated, and that he has no idea who would frame him that way. Magnus didn’t see Alec, but Underhill told him that he accepted the meeting Magnus requested, and that it would take place at his convenience.

Magnus has already decided to wait until he knows what he wants from Alec. The least he can do is respect him, and Alec is clearly hurting. Magnus won’t toy with his feelings that way. Not when his heart breaks for him every time he opens a new letter.

But it’s hard to wait. There’s a burning curiosity, a yearning that makes Magnus want to just open the box and take the memories back, pain be damned. If Alec asked him to do it, he probably wouldn’t even hesitate.

The one thing staying his hand is the fact that he still doesn’t know how they broke up.

“You’re moping,” Raphael says dryly, kicking his shin to startle him out of his thoughts.

“Ow!” Magnus glares at him.

“Uncle Rapha! No kicking!”

Magnus and Catarina exchange a look over Madzie’s head as she rushes over to Raphael to scold him and they can’t help bursting out laughing. Raphael just scowls at the little girl, but with so much fondness in his eyes that his love is evident. “Sorry, Madzie, you’re right,” he opens his arms in surrender. “I won’t do it again.”

He sends a warning glare to Magnus to tell him that he will very much do it again as soon as Madzie turns her back to him.

“What’s wrong, Magnus?” Catarina asks from where she’s sprawled over the couch. “You’ve been maudlin for months now.”

“I just—” Magnus hesitates. Does he want to talk about it with his friends, the same friends who didn’t tell him he was in a relationship with a _Shadowhunter_?

More to the point, can he blame them when he _doesn’t know_ what he may have told them that he forgot about?

“How much do you know about Alec Lightwood?” he asks. Raphael is part of the Downworld Cabinet. Catarina was called a friend by Isabelle and Jace. Magnus knows they know _something_.

They both freeze and send each other a panicked look. Magnus sighs. “I know I erased my memories of him,” he says. “I know I was in a relationship with him. I’m just...we’ve crossed paths a few times, and he confuses me.”

“Magnus, are you sure you want to know?” Catarina asks, frowning.

“No,” Magnus admits.

Raphael leans forward. “Then what do you want?”

Magnus pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. _Something_. I can’t get him out of my head, and without more elements, I can’t figure out if I want him there or not.”

Madzie has gone back to her drawing on the table and she doesn’t seem to be listening to them. Catarina sits up on the couch and crosses her legs, staring at Magnus like she’s trying to read him.

“It’s been strange, acting like nothing’s happened in the last four years around you,” she sighs. “But with time, it will even out. Are you sure you want to know?”

“No,” Magnus says. “But I want you to tell me.”

“Tell you what exactly?” Raphael asks.

“How did it end?”

They exchange a look again. “We don’t know,” Catarina says slowly. “You...your father took your magic and your immortality. You weren’t happy, or even okay, but you and Alec were fine. This boy would have done anything for you, and you were head over heels in love with him.”

“The next thing we knew, your magic was back and you didn’t even remember him,” Raphael finishes. “Whatever happened, it was fast.”

“My father _took_ my magic?” Magnus gapes at them. It’s one thing that Asmodeus died and Magnus inherited the power of Edom from him, but this? He’d thought he’d left his father and his manipulations in the past.

“You made a deal with him,” Catarina says. “You needed his power to save Alec’s parabatai.”

“Magnus,” Raphael raises a hand before Magnus can react to that. “You either need to know nothing or everything. If you only get fragments of the story, you’ll be judging yourself and all of us on half the facts.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Magnus sighs. “I’m—” _I’m falling in love with Alec._ He almost says it out loud, but he hasn’t even admitted it to himself. “I’m confused.”

“Have you actually talked to Alec?” Catarina asks. Her voice is soft and caring, with a tenderness that Magnus feels is directed toward Alec even more than him. Alec’s siblings said that she was a friend, but Magnus assumed that it was more of a patient-healer relationship than an actual friendship. There’s something in Catarina’s demeanor though, something almost protective of Alec, that Magnus didn’t expect at all.

“I’m pretty sure he’s avoiding me, and I don’t blame him,” Magnus shrugs. “He told me that he’s moving to Alicante.”

“He told us that at the last Cabinet meeting,” Raphael confirms. “As much as I dislike Nephilim as a rule, I’ll be sad to see him go. At least we know that Isabelle is the most likely to replace him, and she’ll carry on his work.”

“Isabelle?” Magnus repeats. The way Raphael said the name… “You had a relationship with her?”

“You’ve missed a lot of things, Magnus,” Raphael says quietly, sadly. “Isabelle and I didn’t work out, but she’s no less an incredible woman.”

Magnus takes a moment to process that – from the little he knows of Isabelle Lightwood, he would never have imagined her with Raphael. “What about Alec?” he asks. “What do _you_ think about him?”

Raphael stares at him silently for a while. “He’s a protective brother, and a solid leader,” he finally says. “He’s willing to work with us, and he doesn’t compromise on what he thinks is right. I admire that. He’s also depressed and not taking care of himself and he’s going to burn out.”

Magnus blinks at Raphael’s bluntness – not that he expects anything else, but hearing this from someone else than Jace and Isabelle is a little jarring. Alec is not doing well, and he can hear the implication behind it, the thought that they all have and don’t dare to voice:

“And that’s because of me. Because of whatever happened between us.”

“No,” Catarina reacts forcefully. “You’re not responsible, Magnus. Even if we don’t know how it ended, you can’t be blamed if you don’t even remember.”

“But I’m not wrong, am I? Alec’s depression dates back to when I erased my memories.”

“Which is also when he was injured,” Catarina points out. “He lost his father that day. He lived for months thinking that he was going to die. He sustained a life-changing injury. Each of those are cause enough to spiral down, and I’m not even touching on his pre-existing issues.”

“The real question here, Magnus,” Raphael straightens in his seat, “is why are you so worried about him?”

“Because he’s—” Magnus starts forcefully, and he finds himself like a fish out of water when he doesn’t find the words so say what Alec _is_ , exactly. Raphael isn’t wrong. He doesn’t _know_ Alec. He shouldn’t care about him.

But he does.

“Mommy?” a high-pitched voice asks, and they all turn to look at Madzie, who has approached them from behind Magnus’ armchair.

“Yes, sweetie?” Catarina’s whole face softens as she looks at her daughter.

Magnus is reminded of Alec’s letter. _I hope you remember enough of her to love her._ He’s fuzzy about how exactly Madzie came to live with Catarina, and he hasn’t seen her much in the last few months, almost like Catarina purposefully avoided taking her along. What does Madzie know of everything that’s happened? Alec obviously knows her, and loves her.

“Are you talking about Alec?” Madzie asks, unwittingly confirming his suspicions as Catarina winces.

“Yes, we were,” she answers truthfully, not one to lie to her child.

“I miss him,” Madzie says, climbing in Catarina’s lap. “We haven’t gone to the Institute in weeks.”

“Alec’s been really busy, but I’ll call him to ask when we can come, alright?” Catarina tells her, grimacing a bit toward Magnus.

“He used to come here,” Madzie says wistfully. “It was more fun when Alec and Magnus played with me.”

“Madzie!” Catarina stops her. “We talked about this.”

Madzie bows her head and crosses her arms against her chest, sulking. In this moment, although she’s nothing like him, she reminds Magnus of young Max Lightwood the other day.

Maybe the truth really comes from the mouths of  babes .

“It’s okay,” Magnus says. “Let her. You don’t need to tiptoe around me.”

“Tiptoe?” Madzie asks, tilting her head. She points to her feet in confusion.

“I mean that you can say anything you want to me,” Magnus explains.

“Mommy said we don’t talk about Alec with you,” Madzie frowns.

Magnus leans toward her. “Well now you’re allowed. Do you see him a lot?”

“Magnus,” Catarina warns.

Magnus waves a dismissing hand at her, and she frowns in annoyance.

“He was very sick,” Madzie explains seriously. “And his leg doesn’t work anymore. So I can’t jump in his arms. But he’s not sick anymore so we can see him more.”

“That’s very good,” Magnus nods.

Madzie saunters over and stomps right in front of him. “Magnus, why are you and Alec not together anymore?”

Magnus freezes. Catarina and Raphael seem to be holding their breath, and Madzie watches him with too much intensity for her young age – like she’s been waiting to ask that question for a long time. _Why, indeed._

How does he explain to an eight-year-old that he chose to remove his memories of his...boyfriend, or whatever they were, and doesn’t remember why?

He stays silent for too long, and Catarina stands up. “Madzie, come on, leave Magnus alone for now. How about you go play with the cats upstairs?”

“No!” Madzie shouts. “I want to know!”

“Sweetie, I told you, Magnus and Alec don’t love each other anymore,” Catarina says with a sour look on her face, trying to take Madzie’s arm to guide her away.

Madzie pushes her off. “But Alec is always sad when we speak about Magnus!”

“You’ve been talking about him with Alec?” Catarina’s eyes widen, and Magnus can’t take his eyes off them.

“He tells me stories,” Madzie says quietly. “About the Downworlders and the Shadowhunters, so I can help us all make peace when I’m older. Magnus is in all of the stories. He always helps the people who don’t have anyone to take care of them.”

Magnus bows his head, his eyes suddenly filling with tears under the heavy gazes of his friends. Madzie grabs his hand and taps it until he looks up at her.

“I think maybe Alec needs help,” she whispers loudly.

*

_I miss you, Magnus. I miss you more than I can say in words._

_Everyone is walking on eggshells around me, and I keep wishing that you were here. I dream of you, and when I wake up, I have to remember all over again, every time. I envy you sometimes, for being free of this pain._

_But I will never regret our time together._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make my day! I'd love to hear your thoughts. I'm also on [Tumblr](https://echo-bleu.tumblr.com/) and apparently now on [twitter](https://twitter.com/echobleuet) if you want to chat.


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